


First Heat

by orphan_account



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: 'Clit' stimulation. Questionable Morality, Abuse, Anal, Anal Fingering, Assisted Mating, Body Modification (mentioned and actual), Breeding, Breeding stand, COMPLETE and posted weekly., Castration (graphic), Contemporary AU, Cultural Bestiality, Emotional/Mental Manipulation. Everything mentioned is normal/practiced in this world., Implied Mpreg, Knotting, M/M rough sex, Multi, NO VAGINA, Non Consensual 'Feminization', OOC, Puppy Play (sort of, Technical and actual explicit BESTIALITY, Unbeta'd, Underage - Freeform, Voyeurism, animal sex, extreme), non Canon, non-con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-08
Updated: 2016-09-10
Packaged: 2018-08-07 12:29:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 5
Words: 34,619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7714930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles is a male Omega, half human, half Were.   Raised, trained and physically modified into a   'dog boy bitch' he's  capable of having  actual puppies if mated to a dog . He's owned by Alpha Scott McCall and is approaching his first heat when Scott decides it's time he was bred to a stud dog so he can sell the valuable puppies. </p>
<p>A/N :  The Omegas kept as  dog boy bitches are born with limited understanding, under sized male genitals and canine, animalistic  behaviors, but physically human shapes.  Stiles ability to 'shift is suppressed and  being born male he's referred to as  'he' but because  he's 'feminized' he's a 'bitch' dog boy.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>READ THE TAGS! </p>
<p>IF the kinks explored in this fic don't rock your boat DON'T READ. This is FICTION I do not condone ANY RL abuse,  animal or human, period. Don't be the person who intentionally reads something you know you're not going to like, then leaves a comment  trying to shame the author or other readers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The scalpel glinted in the light of the operating theater as Deaton raised it over the prone form of the dog laid on it's back on the operating table. He brought the knife down between it's shaved hind legs and carefully sliced into the skin just in front of the furred ball sac and behind the penis. The skin split like butter under a hot knife and parted, he wiped away the welling blood with the swab Scott passed to him and discarded it. The veterinary machinery monitoring the dog's vital signs beeped steadily. Scott McCall's dark eyes slid from the read out panel on the machine to the look of concentration on Deaton's dark face, the bottom half obscured by a surgical mask, the same green as the gown and latex gloves he wore. He shifted slightly on the stool positioned by the unconscious dog's head.

"So I was thinking," Scott began, "of breeding Stiles when he has his first heat."

"Really?" Deaton sounded distracted as he pushed the first testicle forward and it popped out through the incision. Castration was a common procedure and he'd completed many successfully, but still care had to be taken not to damage the urethra or any of the tangle of blood vessels and cause excessive bleeding. Deaton carefully trimmed away the thin layer of fat surrounding the testes and lifted it a little using a pair of forcipes.

"It's a good idea, he's a very pretty bitch ," Deaton continued, "sweet natured, obedient, I should imagine his pups would be in high demand."

As he spoke he incised the membrane surrounding the testicle and exposed it, shelling it out like a pea. The round, plump testicle had thin chord hanging from it, the sperm duct. Deaton carefully applied a ligature to the sperm duct and blood vessels and tied them off.

"That's what I thought," Scott nodded, eyes sweeping up tp Deaton's face," mom said we could use the money and he's an Omega, be cruel not to let him breed." He added with a shrug.

Deaton shook his head as he reached for a pair of surgical scissors. "That's a fallacy, Omega's don't _have_ to breed, even bitch boys like Stiles." He added snipping cleanly through the sperm duct and blood vessels above the ligature and dropping the newly detached testicle into an enamel kidney dish.

Deaton began the same procedure on the second testicle. "If you don't want to breed him and don't want to risk him getting bred by some random dog or fall into the hands of an unscrupulous Alpha you could always have him neutered completely."

Scott inhaled sharply. "I couldn't do _that_ to him.

Deaton paused and raised his eyes to the young Alpha. "Your a good, responsible owner Scott," Scott blushed under Deaton's praise, but don't be over sentimental. By all means treat Stiles well but don't forget what he is. He has a limited understanding, he lives in the moment not dwelling on the past or what might happen tomorrow, his instincts guide him and if you have him made gender neutral he won't care one way or the other. What he's never had he won't miss."

Deaton bent his head to his task as Scott chewed his bottom lip.

"It's not really that, " Scott passed the vet a swab, "it's just that I've already had him castrated, his penis docked and his vocal chords shortened so that he's a proper dog boy bitch, I don't think it's right to put him through more surgery."

Deaton dropped the second testicle into the enamel bowl. "Sorry Sam, it's going to be a bit of a surprise when you wake up," he chuckled darkly, "but you only have yourself to blame, humping everything in sight." He looked at Scott. "And Stiles looks much prettier without a pair of ugly balls and penis hanging down, even if they were small. It's not as if he was ever going to use them." He continued smoothly as he began to suture the incision closed. "Can you honestly say in the years since you the procedure done Stiles has noticed?"

Scott thought for a second before answering. "I think sometimes he tries to say words." He answered anxiously.

Deaton snorted behind his mask without looking up from where he was stitching. "Almost all dog boy owners say their pets try to talk, it's wishful thinking." His eyes flicked up to Scott and down again. "How old is Stiles now?"

"Almost fifteen." Scott answered.

"And you've had him since he was five, that's a long time. You two have grown up together , there's only a couple of years between you, and it's not a surprise you're so attached to him, be more surprising if you weren't."

"He's like my best friend. It's been a bit hard for him lately since I started dating Allison."

"Oh, doesn't he like her?"

"It's not that," Scott gave a guilty sigh, "I don't spend as much time with him as I used to, I think he feels left out."

"Breeding is probably a good idea then." Deaton straightened up. "All done." The swiped the blood away from the dog's skin with a surgical wipe. "Put Sam in one of the recovery cages," he added as he unhooked the surgical mask from behind his ears, "I'll keep looking in on him to make sure he's okay during the night." He turned and Scott slid off his stool and unfastened the tapes at the back of Deaton's surgical gown and he skimmed it off and peeled off his gloves letting them fall into the trash can. "Y'know," Deaton turned balling up his gown in his hands, "most Omega have had their first heat by the time they reach Stiles age and you don't have to wait until his heat to have him fucked. As long as he's sexually mature enough that his lube glands work he can be fucked any time, but he'll only be fertile when he's in heat."

Scott scowled. "What's the point if he can't conceive?" He asked with a shrug.

"In Stiles case it'll probably bring on his heat, he might enjoy it and you might like watching."

Scott's cheeks reddened and he scowled. "I'm not some kind of pervert," he spluttered, "I don't want to watch Stiles getting boned by some dog!"

"It's not perverted Scott," Deaton replied with a smirk as he stepped over to the laundry bin and dropped his gown in. "Lots of people get turned on by watching dog boy bitches pounded by a big strapping stud dog and hanging off his cock, it's natural, especially for a werewolf. "

Scott unhooked Sam from the monitor and gently scooped him up and cradled the sleeping spaniel in his arms. "Well it's not natural for me!" He huffed angrily. "I'm not gay, not that there's anything wrong with it," he added hastily, it just doesn't float my boat AND I have Allison."

"Scott, Scott," Deaton shook his head slowly thinking he protested too much, "it has nothing to do with sexual orientation or girlfriends. It's just erotica , kink, enjoying yourself like watching a stripper." He shrugged watching the young Alpha put Sam into a cage and make him comfortable with a warming pad and blankets, Scott needed his horizons expanding. "If you're serious about getting Stiles bred I should give him the once over, make sure he's in good condition and okay sexually. I'll run bloods and test hormone levels for fertility and I should be able to give you some idea when his heat is due."

Scott pulled his bottom lip between his teeth, it sounded expensive, money he just didn't have, his mom had already mentioned that it might be worth thinking about selling Stiles to a good home. He was costly to keep and Scott was going away to college next year and she wasn't certain she could cope with the young bitch boy and not all colleges let pets live with their owners in dorms, no matter how well behaved. He thought breeding Stiles was an easy way of making money and helping his mom out, now he wasn't so sure. Stud fees were astronomical and not all stud owners would accept _pick of the litter_ in lieu of a fee. And suppose Stiles only had one pup, or two? Isaac's suggestion of taking Stiles to the dog park and leaving him tied to a tree to be bred wasn't beginning to look like such a bad idea. Of course he wouldn't do it. Stiles might be hurt or stolen, he wouldn't know the temperament, veterinary history or even the breed of the puppy daddy.

"Sounds expensive."

Deaton shook his head. "No charge, I'm glad to help out, besides I like Stiles."

Scott gave a wide grin that lit up his face.

"Finish up in here." Deaton made a vague gesture, "and then come through to the break room, we'll have coffee and a discussion."

"Sounds like a plan." Scott nodded and moved to tidy things up, dispose of the organic material in the incinerator and put the equipment into sterilizer, as Deaton strode out of the door. 

The break room was small, the walls painted a neutral pastel and a gray cord carpet on the floor. There was a small, square table and three comfortably padded, high backed dining chairs, a short counter made of faux black marble with microwave, toaster and coffee maker set on it. There were cupboards beneath the counter, a fridge, sink and drainer. It was where Scott and Isaac took their breaks and ate when they took turns working shifts at the animal clinic. Deaton took his mug of coffee and dropped onto one of the chairs drawn up at the table. He was tired and wiped his hand over his face, the florescent lighting bouncing off his bald head and took a gulp of coffee before holding the mug between both his big hands. He wasn't a tall man but carried himself well and with confidence and although close to middle age had a youthful appearance betrayed only by smattering of gray in his short, neatly trimmed beard and mustache. He had a slender, athletic build, his skin a rich, dark brown, his eyes almost black. He leaned back resting against the high back of the chair, extending his legs and crossing them at the ankle and closed his eyes.

Several minutes later Deaton's eyes flicked open as Scott padded into the room and made straight for the coffee maker on the counter. He plucked his mug from the cupboard beneath, the one with the yellow smiley face and inspected it closely. Satisfied the mug was passably clean, poured himself half a cup of coffee. Deaton's eyes tracked him as Scott took a pint of half and half from the fridge, added a generous amount to his coffee and returned it. Scott was a swarthy skinned young Alpha , slender rather than tall, athletic, with short black hair, large, sloe eyes, beardless pleasant features and an uneven jaw line. His muscular arms were bare, his chest and torso wedged into a sleeveless gray Tee-shirt, his lean hips and thighs into tight, blue jeans. He leaned his hip on the counter as Deaton cleared his throat and raised his coffee to his lips.

"So, Stiles." Deaton took another gulp of coffee relishing the taste and heat of the dark liquid as it trickled down his throat. "I don't normally advocate the breeding of pets, but Stiles is exceptional and with his looks and temperament it would be a shame not to."

Scott nodded his head in ascent, it's what he thought..

"And as you say the money from the sale of any pups would be most welcome." Deaton continued scrutinizing Scott's face closely. "The trick is to choose the right stud. You want a handsome creature, tall, big boned, muscled rather than bulky, elegant, not aggressive but not overly shy or nervous, confident." He paused sipping his coffee and noting with pleasure that he had Scott's rapt attention. "Free from hereditary defects and as this is Stiles first breeding it would be better to choose an experienced stud who knows his job and gets good sized litters of healthy pups."

Scott's look turned pensive as he suddenly found a stain on the carpet very interesting. "I want the best for Stiles but I can't afford the fee a stud like that would cost." He gave a small shrug. "It's much harder than I thought."

Deaton drew in his legs and sat forward on his chair. "It needn't be." Scott's eyes swept up to the vet's face. "There are plenty of stud owners would accept a puppy in lieu of a stud fee, especially one bred out of a bitch like Stiles."

Scott frowned. "But supposing Stiles only has one or two pups? It wouldn't be worth breeding him."

"That's very unlikely if he's bred to a stud like I described and in any case you'd probably be able to come to some sort of _arrangement._ "

"I don't know"... Scott mumbled uncertainly.

"Well, it's up to you of course." Deaton extended his legs again, crossed at the ankles and leaned back projecting an air of languid disinterest. "Sleep on it, no need to decide straight way. But there's no harm in dropping by after school with Stiles and letting me give him the once over and take bloods. At least you'll be better prepared when his heat does hit, whatever you decide.".

"Okay I'll do that." Scott answered with a nod.

"How are your school grades doing?" Deaton asked, swiftly changing the subject.

 

Some little time later Deaton followed Scott to the side door of the clinic intending to lock up after he left. Scott stepped through the open door and half turned to say goodnight.

"Night Doc."

"Goodnight Scott, drive safely and give my best to your mom." Deaton said pleasantly.

"Sure." 

Scott turned and stepped away. "Scott?" He turned back to Deaton. "If you want more information about breeding Stiles, look on the Internet. There are plenty of Bitch Boy sites with articles and videos. Can't hurt to take a look."

Scott wedged his hands deep into his pockets. "Um yeah, I'll do that. Night Doc."

"Night Scott." Deaton couldn't keep the smug look off his face as he watched Scott's back retreating toward where he'd parked his old car.

Two hours later Scott was in his bedroom sitting at his desk in front of his lap top. His mom was already asleep, he'd made himself a snack in the kitchen and bathed Stiles, the bitch boy was asleep on his rectangular dog bed in the corner with the thick mattress and warm, comfy blankets. Of course Stiles wouldn't remain there, as soon as Scott went to sleep the bitch would scramble onto the foot of his bed, flop down, curl around and go to sleep. Scott was convinced Stiles was more comfortable in his own bed...But still....

Scott twisted his head around and looked guiltily over his shoulder at Stiles prone form at what he was about to do. As attractive as the seventeen year old Alpha was, it was the Omega bitch boy that drew the admiring glances. Stiles was considered a beautiful specimen. His hairless, unblemished skin was the color of buttermilk covered with a generous smattering of small, dark moles, the dark brown hair on his head thick , unruly. Large eyes the color of mellow whiskey fringed by long lashes in a sweet face made 'impish' by a snub, turned up nose and a generous mouth with plump, pink lips. This slender neck was encircled by a pink leather collar, not too tight and not too slack and which he wore proudly. He had dusky pink nipples on his chest.

There was a gentle curve to his back, the knots of his spine barely visible as it dipped down to the firm, round globes of his ass. His slender frame with long, lean, elegant muscles flared out to wider hips, an indication of his ability to bare pups. 

Stiles walked on all fours like a good pet should. The skin on the palms of his hands and soles of his feet thick and leathery, his knees bent and thighs tucked up against his body. He only stood upright for short periods of time, when Scott patted his chest and gave the command "Up." Then he would rise up, his hands resting on Scott's shoulders for balance, to his full height.

He was taller than Scott these days.

Stiles crotch was smooth and bare, free from hair and balls in their ugly sac.They had been removed years ago, so long ago he couldn't remember it or having his cock docked until it was little more than a button bundle of nerves that he pissed through and that sent shivers of pleasure sparking through him when Scott's hand brushed against it during belly rubs or when he bathed him. And after all he was a bitch, what did he need a cock and balls for? 

Stiles was curled around on his bed, he whimpered and his arms and legs moved restlessly, sliding against the blankets. Scott smiled as he imagined him chasing after a ball or butterfly as he was prone to do. He turned back to the computer screen and for a moment he hesitated and then his fingers moved over the keys and he entered ' _dog bitch boy_.

Scott sat back as 190,000 hits rolled in, his jaw dropped. He'd guessed it was a popular subject, just not that popular! He looked furtively around, his eyes bouncing over Stiles still form and began to scroll through dismissing those that didn't interest him. He stopped on a site that had articles about breeding and said more or less the same a Deaton about the importance of using a good stud. He looked at the list of videos and clicked on one called _'How To Breed The Maiden Bitch. Toby and Riot._ ' it sounded serious and educational, one of the less lurid , colorful tiltes and Scott thought it might be informative. He settled back in his chair to watch as the video started.

The video quality wasn't bad the sound was a little muffled. The camera jerked around as the video started and showed a medium sized room, white panted walls and a wooden floor. The camera settled on a metal stand near one wall, apparently bolted to the floor. It had four legs and a head restraint, a short, padded bench, the black leather scuffed and worn, fitted with a thick leather strap. The front legs were straight and fitted with leather cuffs at the bottom, the back legs flared out and were fitted with the same sort of restraining cuffs. Scott's brow creased as he tried to figure out it's significance. The door opened and a man walked in leading a dog boy on a thin chain leash, a brown leather collar around his neck, presumably this was Toby. Scott sat forward slightly avidly watching the screen as the boy moved on all fours beside his owner.

Toby looked younger than Stiles and Scott guessed he was no more than thirteen, he had chubby cheeks and large blue eyes with a mop of wheat colored hair, pale skin and mocha nipples. Looks could be deceiving but his body was slight with long, slender limbs giving him a gangly appearance as though he had yet to grow into them. Scott wasn't shocked, dog boy bitches often had their first heat around twelve. The camera moved slowly over Toby's young body and Scott wrinkled up his nose and gave a huff of disgust. The boy hadn't been _fixed_ and a useless, small cock and balls hung down from his groin. Scott had to agree with Deaton they looked ugly and unfeminine and why on earth some owners insisted on keeping them was beyond him. Stiles had looked and behaved much more feminine since he lost his balls and had his penis docked , the head turned into to a tiny button _clit_ as Deaton called it.

The man reached down and pushed his hand through the bitches hair affectionately and he pressed into the touch much as Stiles did when Scott petted him. Toby looked well cared for. The camera panned after them as the man and Toby turned and he was led toward the stand.

"Time to get that belly fucked full of pups," the man said in an amused, gravel voice and jostled the leash playfully.

Toby halted about a foot from the stand and looked at it curiously with an anxious whine. The man, obviously a werewolf, wasted no time and just stooped and swept Toby up into his arms as if he weighed nothing and put him in the stand. Toby wriggled and whined, his owner held him firmly by the nape and secured his head and while Toby was twisting his head trying to free himself he cuffed his wrists to the front legs and made sure he was resting his weight on the padded bench under his chest and upper abdomen, he secured the leather strap from the bench buckling it over his back. Lastly he splayed Toby's back legs and cuffed one ankle to each flared back leg of the stand . The bitch was held securely. Lastly he adjusted everything so that it was a good fit and dropped the entire front of the stand so that Toby rested on the bench, his elbows bent, ass in the air.

The man sat cross legged by the stand toward Toby's rear, the bitch gave a low continuous whine and he ran his hands over his back and swept them down over his rounded ass cooing to him quietly and telling him what a beautiful bitch he was and what gorgeous puppies he'd have. His owner's voice and soothing touch seemed to work, Toby fell silent and relaxed visibly.

The camera closed in on Toby's splayed legs and up to his ass. The inside of his thighs and tightly furled pink pucker glistened with slick, the significance wasn't lost on Scott, Toby was in heat. 

His owner reached underneath Toby and began to fondle his tiny balls and tug on his penis. After a minute Toby began to give a long moaning whine, different from before and his hips flexed and began to sway, both his owner and the man with the camera chuckled as the volume of the whines grew.

"He's such a slut," the gravely voice said, " desperate for a knot to break him open and fill him full of pups." There was more dirty chuckling and then the distant, heavy panting of a dog and scrabble of claws on wood and as quickly as he had begun the man stopped his ministrations making Toby whine in disappointment. The man scrambled to his feet and slapped Toby's rump with the flat of his hand, hard enough to make the flesh jiggle and leave a red hand print. Toby gave a surprised yip.

"Don't you let me down Toby, show your stud what a good bitch you are and give him a good ride."

His owner stepped away from the stand and the camera swung dizzyingly around and settled on another man coming into the room. The man was older, brawnier and his hand was curled tightly around the leather studded collar of a huge dog, a massive harlequin Great Dane with flame cropped ears. The dog strained forward against the leather, front legs flailing, raised off the ground and walking on his hind legs, tongue lolling and heaving great, panting breaths as he strained to get at the bitch. Scott's eyes widened and he inhaled sharply, this was obviously _Riot_ of the title. He hadn't expected a small dog with a name like that, maybe a lab or sheepdog, but not this great brute. It was certainly a magnificent animal with its sleek, white coat splashed with black, raw boned and muscled, standing at least thirty inches a the shoulder and weighing around 150 pounds, it dwarfed the bitch boy in the stand. 

Riot's cock pushed several inches from it's large furred sheath, his balls heavy and ripe hung swaying between his hind legs. His cock was pointed like a spear and a veined angry red. Scott had seen dog cock before but not so vividly displayed or large. He felt a tiny, illicit thrill when he thought about Riot's cock pushing into Toby's tiny virgin hole and God, the dog's knot would split him in two! On a beast like that it must be as big as a man's fist...bigger. Scott's cock twitched, perhaps the men wouldn't let the dog use it's knot, could dogs even breed without knotting? He didn't think so and the moral thing to do was turn the video off before it went any further, but then he'd wonder . In any case it must be alright or his owner wouldn't do it, after all Toby's boy pussy would stretch to birth puppies. And besides he had the image of Toby squirming and wriggling on Riot's cock firmly stuck in his head, it sent a tingle down his spine and warmth pooling in his groin. Allison would kill him.

There again she'd never know.

Riot lunged at Toby's ass and the man, presumably another werewolf wrenched him back.

"Don't be a dick Riot," the man drawled, "the pretty bitch isn't going anywhere, he's new to this and there's plenty of time to give him your cock."

Riot gave a frustrated whine and Toby whimpered in the stand, trying to turn his head to look behind him. Scott had the feeling it was a good job he couldn't. He man holding Riot's collar let him inch forward and his cold nose touched Toby's buttock. He jumped so violently the stand shook and let out a yelp and then was frozen in place. Riot ears tilted forward at the yelp and he swiped his big, sand paper tongue over Toby's balls, up his crack and swiped his tight hole. The man released his grip and stepped away, Riot buried his nose in Toby's hole, inhaled deeply and then began to lick at him in earnest, short quick licks and pointed stabs with the tip of his tongue. Toby yelped and hips dipped sharply when his rim gave and Riot's tongue speared inside, he gave more yelps as the Great Dane ate him out, stabbing in and out, fucking him with his tongue, deeper with every thrust.

"Good boy Riot," his owner encouraged from somewhere off camera, "get him ready for your knot"

Riot's tail whipped from side to side and then suddenly the dog left off eating Toby out and rest his head in the small of his back and suddenly mounted him, lifting up onto his hind legs. The stand creaked and rattled as the big dog wrapped his forelegs around Toby's waist in a circle of steel, he gave a panicked squeal before the air was knocked out of him by Riot's weight settling over his back . Scott was certain Toby would have collapsed if the stand wasn't holding him up.

Scott's cheeks flushed pink as he stared avidly at the screen, mouth slack.

Riot circled and flexed his hips as his angry looking cock sought it's mark, panting and drooling over Toby's back. Toby whined nervously as the hard column of flesh poked at his buttocks and slid up and down his crack, branding him with pre - come. Scott knew the moment Riot notched into Toby's pucker, the bitch froze, his whining stopped and for a moment both were unnaturally still.

Unconsciously Scott held his breath.

The muscles in Riot's thighs rippled, bunched and his hips snapped forward. Toby let out a shill shriek as the dog's thick shaft pierced his tender, virgin hole.

Scott's cock hardened viciously and he exhaled in a rush.

Despite the slick Toby was producing Riot's thick shaft of solid flesh only penetrated two or three inches into his tight hole and the dog huffed his dissatisfaction at not plunging deeper. He ignored the litany of shrill cries and Toby's abortive struggles, tugging at the cuffs and tossing his head and pulled back until only the tip of his glistening cock rested against the bitches abused boy pussy. Scott watched avidly, unable to draw s eyes from the screen as Riot's muscles bunched, his forelegs tightened into a rib cracking grip around Toby's thin body and he surged forward putting his weight and strength behind the thrust. 

Toby _howled_.

A gut wrenching cry that made Scott jump and his cock pulse. Toby's back arched as Riot's bent over him, the dog's head hanging and tongue lolling over his shoulder. The stand rattled and creaked and although he was held secure, the bitch boy slid forward on the leather bench as Riot buried his entire length in him and his balls swung and slapped Toby's ass. The bitch continued to cry shrilly as the dog began to drill into him, setting a ferociously brutal and fast pace. The only sounds that filled the room were Toby's broken cries, Riot's grunts and heavy pants, the creak, squeak and rhythmic rattle of the stand as Riot snapped his hips forward and pulled back, plunging in and out of Toby's body, mindlessly chasing his release and desire to fill his bitch's belly with pups. On each forward thrust Toby's back arched and a painful, sobbing cry was forced out then he was pulled back harshly onto Riot's cock. The camera moved in close and showed Riot's cock, engorged to nearly twice it's original girth, thick, pulsing veins tracking its length as it plunged in a out of Toby's hole, the rim stretched tightly, obscenely around it and wrenched and stretched with every movement. It looked painful, swollen as it ballooned out and was punched back.

Riot danced from back foot to back foot lifting his legs and trying to push deeper, his tongue lolled and he shifted the angle of his thrusts. Toby's cries hitched and took on a less pained tone, his back arched higher and flanks rippled as he was jostled. Riot's thrusts became a frantic blur. The camera changed angle showing them joined together from below, Riot's balls swaying back and forth bouncing off Toby's ass and it was clear why Riot's thrusts had become frantic, his knot was forming like another pair of testicles, swollen, hard and red. It laid siege to Toby's hole and Scott's eyes widened as it pushed inside and Toby cried out as he was breached. Riot pulled his knot out and pushed it in again and again, larger than before. Toby's cries grew sharper. Twice more Riot pushed his knot inside the bitch's tight rim and it bulged and stretched as Toby sobbed. The third time the knot glistening with Toby's slick and swollen to the size of a small fist was harder to push in. Riot grunted as his hips snapped forward and he harshly pushed his knot home until he was fully seated.

Toby gave a shrill squeal.

Riot growled in triumph.

Scott's eyes widened and he pressed the heel of his hand against his hard, pulsing dick.

Riot couldn't pull out as his knot was imprisoned snugly in Toby's cunt, that didn't stop him from pressing forward as deep as he could go. Each time his muscles flexed and Riot pressed in, Toby's tiny cock jerked, dribbled a little clear liquid, the muscles in his flanks contracted and Riot whined and pressed forward again. Scott realized Riot was pumping his seed into Toby's now pliant body, each pulse of his release caused Toby to orgasm with a moan, his muscles squeezing and milking Riot's knot.

The pleasure was literally being fucked out of the bitch along with the slick Riot's cock was forcing out of him .

The camera showed a smug look of blissful contentment on Riot's face as he relaxed on Toby's back and nuzzled his nose into his hair. Toby mewled and gave a broken whine. They stayed like that for a while, the man Scott presumed was Riot's owner encouraging him.

"Good boy Riot, breed that pretty bitch right up and fill him full of your pups."

Riot gave a self-satisfied, tongue lolling doggie grin and the swish of his tail made the air sing.

At length Riot hopped off Toby's back and he yelped as the Dane's knot pulled on his tender hole, Riot paid no heed and swung his leg over Toby's back and they stood ass to ass tied to one another. The last shots were of a small puddle on the floor under Toby's cock and his tear tracked face. He was _wrecked_. A flush of bright pink colored his cheeks, extending down his neck and dusting over his upper chest. His face glistened with sweat and sodden hair clung to his forehead, his eyes were heavy lidded, glazed, black with sated lust and he drooled from his slack and open mouth. 

It was the hottest thing Scott had ever seen.

Scott stared at the screen long after it turned black and pressed the heel of his hand against his hard, throbbing cock through his jeans. Stiles snored and Scott startled out of his stupor and pulled his hand from his cock as if he'd been burned. He couldn't believe he'd been aroused by watching a dog breed a bitch boy. He glanced furtively at Stiles blissfully unaware of what a pervert he had for an owner.

Fuck!

His cock tented his jeans and pressed uncomfortably against the zipper. He tried thinking of other things but it refused to soften and hardened further when the erotic picture of Stiles locked into the stand and Riot buried balls deep in his virgin hole and breeding him full of pups, swam into his mind. He was appalled and pushed to his feet and hurried to the bathroom to take are of urgent business.

Scott skimmed out of his clothes and stepped into the shower stall, sliding the door closed behind him. Warm water cascaded over his head and shoulders as he took himself in hand and stripped his cock without finesse or patience, one hand braced against the tile and images of Stiles whimpering beneath Riot playing behind his closed eyelids. Scott's release came in a rush and swept him away as he painted the tiles with ropes of cum. He braced himself against the tiles with both hands as it seemed his legs would buckle under him.

He was _so_ going to hell....


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Graphic scene of blood collection, beware if you don't like needles.

Scot had a restless night and awoke the next morning to find the crotch of his sleep pants a sticky, crusty damp mess, along with the sheets. It wasn't the first time he'd had a wet dream and come in his sleep, but hell this time there was a lot of jizz! Usually he couldn't remember the erotic dream that caused his nighttime ejaculation, but this time he could and that just made it worse and added to his mortification. The matter wasn't helped by the fact his room sunk of sex and Stiles was staring at him from the foot of the bed, his nose twitching and a happy, expectant look on his face. Scott couldn't look at him after the perverted dream he'd had of a huge stud with an enormous cock thrusting fiercely into Stiles tight hole as he was held firm in a stand, all he could do was take his breeding. The dog's heavy lust laden pants played their erotic soundtrack as his swollen balls swayed obscenely, slapping against Stiles ass , the bitch howled and arched his back at every thrust. It made Scott feel freshly horny.

He was a terrible person and didn't deserve a pet like Stiles.

His hands covered his face and he squinted out through his fingers, Stiles was still staring at him a look of studious concern on his face. Scott suddenly felt he was being judged and a frisson of irritation spiraled through him. He pulled his hands from his face and pushed himself up onto his pillows with his elbows and a scowl.

"Stiles, bed!"

It came out harsher than he intended and he was immediately swamped by another wave of guilt at the way Stiles face fell and he looked from him to his bed in the corner and back.

Scott inhaled deeply as Stiles made _puppy eyes_ at him, he had to be strong. "Sorry buddy. Bed." He emphasized the command by pointing to Stiles bed. The bitch rolled his eyes and gave Scott a look which clearly asked, _'what the hell has made you so grumpy?'_ Grumbling quietly, Stiles scrambled off the bed and went over to his own, turned around three times and flopped down on the soft mattresses, his stiff back to Scott.

Scott gave sigh of relief and grimaced as he swung his legs out of bed and his pants stuck to his groin. 

"Fuck!" He muttered under his breath. 

He tilted upright and opened his window to get rid of the pungent funk and using a forefinger and thumb peeled the sticky material away from his groin and shuffled into the bathroom. He skimmed out of his sleep pants and tossed them in the laundry basket, he'd strip his sheets after he dressed and do the same. He wasn't too worried about his mom, she was a nurse and cool with bodily fluids, besides they'd had _the talk_ when he was thirteen and had his first wet dream and she wouldn't say anything to embarrass him, besides it _so_ wasn't his fault. 

Scott adjusted the temperature of the water and stepped into the shower stall and stood under the warm water as it cascaded over his head and shoulders and sluiced over his body. He partly blamed Deaton for suggesting he go on the Internet and putting the image of Toby and Riot into his brain. He wouldn't have watched a video like that without his suggestion. 

Not that he didn't watch regular porn because, y'know he did. Hell what healthy seventeen year old male didn't? 

But dogs fucking young bitch boys...no. Mind if he'd known it was so freaking hot...Scott shook his head vigorously under the water. It was partly Allison's fault too for going away on vacation to the Appalachians with her parents. She'd said something mysterious about hunting for _Big Foot._ Scott mentally shrugged, apparently there'd been sightings. He missed her terribly and it was another sixteen days before they were due back, he hardly knew how he'd survive. Then there was the business of breeding Stiles. Originally it seemed like a good way to make money and clearing some of his mom's debts, but was turning out more complicated than when he'd discussed it with Isaac. Perhaps he ought to just give it up- except there were already people who'd asked If he was going to breed him and good quality puppies fetched anywhere from fifteen hundred to six thousand dollars each. They could use that cash and the pups would have good homes. 

Scott applied a generous amount of shampoo to his hair and soaped it up into a creamy lather then spent some time rising off his hair and body. By the time he'd finished, Scott felt better, he'd get Stiles checked over by Deaton and take it from there, after all Stiles might not just be a _late boomer_ he might actually not be very fertile or worse, infertile. No sense in putting the cart before the horse. 

He turned off the water and stepped out of the stall, he plucked a towel from the rail and dried himself off, tossed the towel in the basket and took a smaller one from the rail and wandered into his bedroom toweling his hair dry, he didn't feel the least bit self-conscious naked in front of his pet. Stiles remained in a huff with his back turned firmly toward Scott until he dressed and began to strip his bed, Stiles looked over his shoulder at him and Scott gave him a watery smile. Scott balled up his sheets and the used towel in his arms and carried them to the laundry basket in the bathroom and by the time he came back, Stiles was sitting up in his bed and looked much happier. 

Scott felt like crap, the worst owner in the world and crossed to Stiles and bobbed down in front of him 

"Sorry Stiles." There was a note of apology in his voice. He reached out with both hands and pushed his fingers into Stiles hair, his nails scratched his scalp with just the right pressure and Stiles pushed into his owner's touch. Scott gave the best scritches in the world, mom and Isaac were nearly as good, but Allison didn't have enough interest to do more than ruffle his hair. 

"It'll be okay. Deaton will give you a medical and we'll like it from there." 

It sounded like Scott was trying to reassure him and Stiles frowned a little wondering why. The young man took Stiles face between his hands, kissed his nose and then gracefully stood up. 

The bitch immediately sensed something was afoot. 

Stiles was smart and understood a _lot_ of words and short phrases, especially the ones that had anything to do with him. The intense complications of human conversation, not so much. He generally went by tone of voice, expression, body language and scent. For instance people said, "Good boy, good bitch," or something with the word 'pretty' they looked and smelt happy, their voices light and bodies relaxed, it made Stiles feel good and the opposite was true of the words, "Bad boy," and then there was mom and Scott's looks of disappointment which sent Stiles scrambling for his bed. Scott snapped his fingers and Stiles hopped off his bed and followed Scott down the stairs, along the hall and headed toward the kitchen. 

Melissa McCall was already in the kitchen, standing by the stove and delicious smells swirled around her. 

Stiles nose twitched and stomach rumbled... 

Melissa was a slim, attractive looking woman not yet descended into middle age, casually dressed in slacks and a plan Tee-shirt. Her eyes lifted from the stove as her son and Stiles came through the door. 

"Good morning you two." She smiled as she spoke."Sleep well?" 

"Um yeah." Scott mumbled as he pecked her on the cheek and then pulled out a dining chair from the table and flopped down. 

Melissa's eyes tracked Stiles as he made his way across the kitchen to the pet flap in the back door, it swung up before him and to Stiles it was magic, not the small wireless unit attached to his collar making the flap work. There had been one fateful day some time ago when the unit malfunctioned and Stiles had walked head first into the flap knocking himself on his ass. Scott had laughed until he cried but mom had made a fuss of him and he forgave Scott. Stiles past through the flap and into the fenced yard. 

Melissa turned the rice steamer to warm, got down bowls and some palm sugar from the cupboard and lifted Stiles pink, china bowl from its place beside his matching water bowl on the floor. She dished up the oatmeal into the bowls and carried hers and Scott's over to the round table along with the palm sugar and set it own in front of Scott. ""What do you want to drink? Juice, tea or water?" 

She didn't like Scott drinking coffee and soda was out of the question at breakfast. 

Scott lifted his eyes as he reached for the palm sugar. "Juice please." He spooned sugar over his oatmeal. 

Melissa opened the fridge and took out a glass jug of orange and set it on the counter and then poured some milk into Stiles oatmeal and stirred it around, pushing in finger to check it wasn't too hot. She put the bowl on the floor just as Stiles came back through the flap. 

"There you go Stiles." She ruffled his hair as he sniffed the bowl and began to eat. 

Stiles slurping drew Scott's glance. In the last twenty years there'd been an explosion in Alphas making pets out of Omega like Stiles. Actual canines tended to be nervous around Alphas or worse, aggressive but bitch boys were ideal and naturally submissive, intelligent and easily trained. When the bitch boys were bred to dogs the resulting puppies were sought after as pets for both werewolves and humans, they readily accepted their owners as dominant, were more intelligent and easily trained than the average canine , very family orientated and good with children. The larger ones made excellent service, working and security dogs. A whole industry had grown up around the bitch boys catering for their every need from complex, carefully balanced diets, collars and leashes, toys, beds and of course veterinary care, none of it cheap. Scott worked shifts at the animal clinic as well as doing casual yard work to pay for Stiles. He knew he should really feed one of the complete, dry pellet diets to Stiles specially as Deaton had warned him that Stiles might put on weight after he was _fixed_. That had never been a problem, Stiles had always tended to be wiry and slight and the complete food tasted as bland and as awful as it looked, Scott knew, he'd tried it. Stiles thrived on the balanced leftovers and meals Melissa provided, Scott wondered idly if Stiles would need supplements when he was in pup. He returned to eating. 

Melissa retrieved the jug of orange from the counter and sat opposite Scott and poured them both a glass of juice and slid Scott's across to him. Scott raised his dark eyes as he spooned more oatmeal into his mouth. 

"Thanks mom." He lowered his eyes to his bowl. 

Melissa nodded and raised the glass of chilled juice to her lips, condensation trickling down the glass and the inside of her wrist. She studied her boy pensively, no- the young man sat opposite her. It was hard for her, Scott was all she had and it didn't seem five minutes ago that he was ten and tumbling and roughhousing in the yard with Stiles and here he was on the cusp of adult life. Going off to college next year and already deeply involved with his first girlfriend, perhaps too deeply. 

Scott had always tended to think with his heart and not his head. 

It wasn't that Melissa didn't like Allison, she did, very much, but she couldn't help but feel a little resentful over the sway the young Argent had over her son and the mother, Victoria was a strange woman. She took a deep breath. 

"So," she said putting her glass onto the table and sprinkling a little sugar over her oatmeal and stirring it in lazily with her spoon, "how much longer is Allison and her parents way? A couple of weeks?" 

Scott raised his head. "Sixteen days." He replied and went back to eating. 

Melissa was surprised he didn't add hours and minutes. "It'll soon pass." She said with a note of patient sympathy. 

"Not soon enough." Scott mumbled as his fingers curled around his glass and he plucked it from the table, took it to his mouth and took a gulp, relishing the chill tang as it slid down his throat. 

Melissa watched the bob of Scott's Adam's Apple in his slender neck for a moment, her eyes slid to Stiles finishing up his breakfast and then back to Scott. 

_"Have you given any more thought to the situation with Stiles?" She said the words quickly, sending them tumbling from her mouth as if she said them slowly, she wouldn't say them at all._

Stiles looked around at his name, oatmeal around his mouth and over his chin. 

Scott's eyes narrowed at his mother over the rim of his glass, he cast a quick sideways glance at Stiles and then looked back at his mother innocently spooning oatmeal into her mouth. She couldn't say something like that and just leave it hanging pregnant in the air. He lowered his glass to the table and twirled it round and around. 

"I know money's tight right now," he faltered, "but when he has pups we can sell them, they'll fetch a lot of money, enough to pay off all our debts and then some." 

Melissa put her spoon down and rest her elbows on the table and clasped her hands. "Scott honey, that isn't what I meant. I love Stiles too," she said gently, "and if he wants puppies that's fine, but I'm not sure I'm comfortable with him having babies just so we can sell them. Becoming a mother's a big step and there's stud fees, veterinary care, shots and caring for the puppies and finding them the right homes." 

"I got it under control mom." Scott said with a lot more confidence than he felt. "Doc Deaton will care for Stiles for nothing, he thinks it'll be good for him to have pups and we'll have no problem finding homes for them. Everybody loves Stiles and they'll want his babies." 

Stiles sat on his haunches and listened to the conversation with his head tilted. He didn't understand what was being said beyond his name, but knew from the vocal inflections it was about him. 

Melissa raised her hand. "I know you'll do your very best Scott but I was actually talking about when you go to college. I can't look after him honey, I have to work and simply don't have the time to feed him and bathe him, keep him amused and exercise him, you know how easily he's bored." 

Scott leaned forward. "I'll take him with me. There's plenty of colleges allow well behaved pets in the dorms, it'll be fine." He shrugged. 

Melissa arched an elegant a eyebrow. "And suppose the one that has the courses you want, doesn't?" 

"Then I'll find one that does." Scott replied firmly. "I'm not selling him mom." 

Melissa's mouth tightened. "That's not fair Scott, I know how much Stiles means to you, I'd never ask you to do that." 

A guilty blush spread over Scott's cheeks. 

"But suppose Allison wants to go to a college that doesn't allow pets?" Melissa continued. "And even if she does is it fair to Stiles to ask him to be alone in dorms while you attend class and then stay alone all night while you work or date Allison?" 

Scott raised his head. "Ally loves Stiles." 

"She _likes_ Stiles." Melissa corrected. "I don't think she'd like him tagging along on dates." 

That gave Scott pause for thought, Allison hadn't been too happy on the dates they'd already shared with Stiles. 

"Scott," Melissa dropped her voice and leaned forward,"sometimes when you love someone it means putting your feelings aside and doing what's best for them, even if it means letting them go." 

Scott shook his head. 

Melissa leaned back in her chair. "Your a wonderful, loving young man Scott, always thinking of others, I'm proud that you're my son and I know you'll do the best thing. "She turned to look at Stiles. "Oh Stiles," she said in amused exasperation, "look at your face!" She patted her knee with her hand and Stiles went to her, she cleaned the oatmeal from his face with a napkin. 

School was a bust. It wasn't that Scott wasn't bright or that his grades sucked, but he wasn't _academic_ and studying didn't come easily to him. He tried his best he really did but being an Alpha involved more instinctual common sense than it guaranteed high grades. He wanted to follow in Deaton's footsteps and if a love of animals had been the only requirement he would have totally aced it. As it was he struggled hard for every B+ and elusive A. What made the day worse was the lack of Allison's presence and the fact that none of his classes were with Isaac. 

When school was over he had lacrosse practice. Coach Finstock was on his case from the get go and Jackson was his usual prima donna pain in the ass. He barely had time to say more than 'hello' to Isaac after practice and the taller boy was rushing off to his shift at Deaton's pet clinic. 

Scott made his way home arriving later than usual and parking on the drive. His mom's car had been gone for some time as she left or her shift at the hospital. Scott fished his keys out of his pocket and let himself in, half expecting Stiles to greet him. The house was quiet except for cartoons playing quietly on the television in the living room (Stiles loved cartoons, trying to catch the fast moving figures and enjoying the silly noises, so Melissa often left them on for him), and a noise like a small outboard motor. Scott dropped his school bag in the hall and padded into the living room. 

Stiles was laid full length on his side on the sofa, his head buried under a cushion, his chest rising and falling deeply. He emitted a continuous, rumbling snore, his arms and legs dangling, twitching over the edge of the cushions. A malicious smile graced Scott's lips as he edged closer to the sleeping pet. Technically Stiles wasn't supposed to climb on the furniture but both Scott and Melissa knew he did and turned a blind eye to it. As he got close enough Scott raised his right hand and brought the flat palm down with a resounding _thwack_ on Stiles inviting buttock. It was more sound than fury but it made the flesh jiggle and Stiles shot bolt upright with shriek, sending the cushion flying. The traumatized pet lost his footing tumbled off the sofa into a crumpled heap on the rug. 

Stiles blinked up at Scott, Scott howled with laughter and doubled over clutching his sides. Stiles picked himself up, shook and gave Scott a disdainful look which clearly indicated he was not amused. Scott sobered and took in Stiles hurt expression. Scott bobbed down and took Stiles face between his hands and squeezed his cheeks. 

"It's your own fault you know you're not supposed to be on the furniture, buddy." Scott's voice was quietly amused as he ruffled Stiles hair and the pet relented. "Come on, Scott said pushing to his feet, " let's see what mom's left for us to eat and then we'll go visit Doc Deaton." Scott flicked off the television with the remote (stiles really had to learn how to use that) and they both made their way into the kitchen. 

Mom had left a note in the middle of the kitchen table that there were leftovers in the fridge for Scott and Stiles. She had pulled a double shift at the hospital and would be home just before he left for school tomorrow. Scott gave a resigned sigh, his mom was grabbing all the extra shifts she could and it just made him more determined to help out. He warmed the leftovers in the microwave, the kitchen filled with the aroma of meatloaf and he shared it out between his plate and Stiles bowl. He put his plate on the table and Stiles bowl on the floor and then took can of soda from the fridge. Scott didn't bother with a glass, what his mother didn't see wouldn't hurt her. He opened the can and poured a little in a bowl for Stiles. 

Stiles loved soda, the bubbles got up his nose, made him shake his head and sneeze, sometimes he burped. 

Stiles finished first, lapped up his soda and then sneezed as the bubbles got up his nose and then went and sat by Scott's feet. Stiles didn't beg, he'd been taught not to and really he didn't need to. Stiles lent heavily on Scott's leg and looked up with large, beseeching whisky colored eyes. Scott ignored his pet for all of two minutes and then shared what was left on his plate with him, quietly convincing himself it was because he felt guilty about the slap. 

Scott washed te dishes in the sink and left them on the drainer, he threw the empty soda can the trash and then dried his hands and unhooked Stiles leash from the hook behind the door. 

"Time to go see Doc Deaton." Scott said cheerily with a smile as he fixed Stiles leash to his collar. 

Stiles face fell and he sat squarely on his bottom. 

"Aww don't do this to me dude." Scott implored with a two handed gesture. "You _like_ Doc Deaton. He likes you." He added coaxingly. 

It was true, Stiles did like Doctor Deaton, he had a kind face and big, gentle hands. He always carried cheesy treats in the pockets of his white coat, but the fact was the man was not to be trusted. He said things like, "This won't hurt a bit," and it invariably did, a lot. Besides, Stiles didn't feel ill, his belly didn't ache, he didn't feel sick and he didn't have a temperature. And he knew damn well it wasn't time for his _shots_ he'd had them quite recently, he remembered and Scott had got it wrong. 

Scott tugged gently, coaxingly on the leash. "Let's go Stiles." 

Stiles blinked at him. 

"Come on dude it's going to be fine, nothing bad I promise."He tugged harder. 

Stiles rolled his eyes. Scott was such a liar sometimes. 

"Look it's just a check up so you can have puppies. You want puppies don't you?" 

Stiles looked blank. 

Scott towed Stiles across the kitchen floor by the leash. 

Stiles made dramatic choking noises and Scott stopped and Stiles gave him an accusing look. 

_"Don't make me carry you out to the car."_

_Stiles look dared him._

Scott carried Stiles out to the car and sat him on the drive while he opened the rear door. Stiles considered bolting back inside the house but Scott kept his foot on the leash. Once the door was open Scott gestured for Stiles to climb onto the back seat and with a much put upon sigh he clambered in and Scott fastened his pet seatbelt. 

Stiles peered out the side window as Scott went back to the house and locked the front door and then climbed in the driver's door and slid behind the wheel. Scott lowered Stiles window just enough to allow him to push his head out and they were off. 

The best thing about driving to the clinic for Stiles was hanging out the car window the wind in his face and whipping his hair. 

The drive was short, they arrived at the clinic parking lot which as surprisingly empty, parked up and got out. Scott opened the door to the waiting room and Stiles poked his head cautiously inside. Specifically Stiles was looking for dogs, big dogs. He had lots of small dogs as friends, he was bigger than they were and it was fun to steal their toys and hold them out of reach. They would yip and yap, dance around him on their hind legs until Scott made him give the toy back. Big dogs were entirely different. They were usually taller than him and had a mouth full of sharp teeth, not that he'd had actual trouble but lately they'd taken to sniffing his butt. Now a bit of butt sniffing was to be expected, dogs and pets did it and it was considered a polite greeting, but lately it'd gotten excessive. One German Shepherd had pushed his nose right in his crack and got quite tetchy when Stiles had immediately sat down. Since that incident Stiles had taken to sitting as soon as he saw a big dog. 

The room was empty except for Isaac behind the reception desk, his nose buried in a comic book, he lifted his head as they walked in and his baby face eased into a wide grin. 

"Hey, Scott," his eyes fell on Stiles, "Stiles!" 

Isaac rounded the reception desk hurriedly and bobbed down in front of the amused pet, Isaac was always so pleased to see him, always so ebullient. "Hey Stiles how's my favorite bitch?" He pushed both hands into his hair and mussed it. Suddenly Isaac stilled and looked up anxiously at Scott. "He's not sick or something?" 

Scott shook his head. "No nothing like that, he's fine." 

Isaac relaxed and returned to petting Stiles enthusiastically. 

"He's here for check up before..." Scott's eyes slithered guiltily over the empty chairs, "y'know." 

Isaac rolled his eyes and unfolded pushing to his full height on long, slim legs. He towered over Scott, slender, more lightly built with a mop of brown, curly hair, pale skin and a deceivingly angelic face. 

"Before what Scott?" He leaned into Scott's space. "You have his belly fucked full of pups." 

"Isaac! Shushhh!" Scott hissed. 

Isaac looked amused. "Why? There's no-one here Scott. Stiles doesn't understand and if you can't say it you shouldn't do it." Isaac folded his arms over his chest. "It's just sex Scott, procreation the most basic drive in the world." 

"Yeah," Scott answered awkwardly, "but it's _Stiles_." 

Isaac slowly shook his head. "Have you given any more thought to stud?" 

Flashes of Riot spun through Scott's mind. "Some. The problem is the stud fee." 

"It needn't be. Like I said we take him to the dog park as soon as he's in heat, tie him to a tree and let nature take it's course." Isaac grinned. "Problem solved." 

Scott scowled. "That's a terrible idea, suppose he's stolen or get's hurt?" 

Isaac looked thoughtful. " Your right. Not a good idea. Suppose we scout out dogs and their owners, choose one we like." 

"We?" Scott's eyebrow rose. 

"Aww come on Scott, I'm like Godfather." 

Scott rolled his eyes. "We at least choose one Stiles likes." 

"Okay, yeah." Isaac agreed. "Ask the owner if they'd mind their dog fucking Stiles full of pups. I don't think they'd object, it's no skin off their nose." 

"That's just as bad!" 

Both young men spun around at he sound of Deaton's voice as he stepped out of the surgery doorway. 

"I hope you're not actually serious?" Deaton looked between them. "No pet owner worth the name would breed like that." 

Isaac wanted to disagree, Scott just looked embrassed.. 

"And you'd have no idea of the temperament or veterinary history of the dog." Deaton continued. 

"We could ask."Isaac ventured. 

"Isaac!" Deaton pinched the bridge of his nose. "Feed the cats and then you can lock the back door on your way out. There are no more appointments tonight, you can leave early." 

"Okay, cool." Isaac grinned and looked between Deaton and Scott. "When the time comes can I have one of Stiles pups?" 

"No!" Deaton and Scott answered in unison. 

"Isaac means well, he's kind hearted and he loves animals." Scott stuck up for his friend as he followed Deaton into the surgery towing a reluctant Stiles. 

"I know," Deaton shut the door behind them, that's what's so frightening." He bent down and ruffled Stiles hair. "We'll do better than that Stiles, won't we boy." Deaton straightened. "Lift him onto the table Scott and keep a hold on his collar, we don't want him jumping and hurting himself." 

Scott lifted Stiles easily onto the examination table while Deaton busied himself gathering things. "Did you take my advice and look on the Internet?" He asked casually. 

Scott felt a warmth roll through his body. "Umm yeah an article said more or less what you did." 

Deaton draped a stethoscope around his neck and studied Scott who was averting his eyes. "Is that all?" 

"N...No there was a video of a bitch boy being bred by a dog. He was younger than Stiles, smaller about," he shrugged his shoulders, "thirteen." 

Deaton seemed unimpressed as he looked at Stiles teeth and pressed his gums. "Good color, nice and pink, do you clean his teeth?" 

"Every day," Scott replied. 

"Good job, it shows. Was he a virgin?" 

"Huh?" 

Deaton looked up. "In the video." 

"Oh, yeah." 

"What kind of dog?" 

"Great Dane. I thought it was too big, his knot was huge, seemed to hurt the bitch." 

Deaton shone a light in each of Stiles eyes. "Dane's a good choice, " his eyes flickered to Scott's face. "The first time they take a knot is always bit _uncomfortable_ but as long as their in season they can take it. I've seen a ten year old take a big Labrador." He used an ear thermometer to take Stiles tympanic temperature, it took less than a second before it beeped and he took the reading. 

Scott gasped. "But ten's too young." 

Deaton shrugged. "Depends when they have their first heat and ten's not unusual." He checked over Stiles scalp. "Small dogs are rarely used on bitches like Stiles, Scott." He gestured to Stiles. "Look at the size of him, to you he may seem small but in canine terms even a ten year old bitch is quite big. If you're going to get a reasonable litter you want a dog that can get a good tie and that generally means height and something with a bit of weight and strength behind the thrusts." 

Scott felt a blush rise in his cheeks and his stomach tighten . "Yeah, I suppose." 

Deaton caressed Stiles skin his hand gilding up his back and over the curve of his ass. He chuckled when Stiles whined and leaned against his hand. "He has lovely skin and he likes to be touched" His voice was husky. 

"I rub baby oil into his skin after his bath." 

Deaton nodded running his hand over Stiles flank. "His skin's so pale, do you use sun screen?" He asked absently. 

Scott nodded. 

"You take very good care of him Scott, I wish all Alphas were so attentive to their bitches. He's a credit to you." 

"Thanks." Scott smiled shyly. 

Deaton drew his hand back. "A Great Dane would be a good choice for Stiles, if that's the way you want to go. Personally I'd be tempted to use a longer coated dog. He's slight but a breeding stand would take care of that, the bench would help him bear the dog's weight." 

Scott almost moaned at the sudden thought of Stiles in a breeding stand being bred by a dog as big as Riot. If Deaton only knew his thoughts. "They used a stand in the video." His voice sounded thick. 

"I'd recommend it, it's best on young, nervous or maiden bitches like Stiles and when using a heavy dog. Sometimes bitches panic when they feel the knot, the stand prevents them hurting themselves or the dog and some dogs get pissed with struggling bitch. It lets them get a good, solid tie. Sometimes an experienced bitch will stand loose for a stud they like." 

Scott pushed his fingers through Stiles hair while Deaton listened to Stiles lungs through his stethoscope . 

"Does the dog have to knot to breed the bitch?" Scott asked, intrigued. 

"Excuse me?" Deaton tugged the stethoscope from his ears with a frown. 

"Um," Scott shifted from foot to foot, "I wondered if they have to knot to breed?" 

"No, but it's very preferable they do. Have known bitches catch without, but there's usually only one pup, two at most and they tend to be smaller, weaker. It's called a _slip mating_ and usually ignored and the bitch is bred again until they get a good tie." 

Scott nodded, hardly trusting himself to speak. 

Deaton returned the stethoscope to his ears. "Get Stiles to lay down and roll him onto his back." 

Scott got Stiles to lay on the table and rolled him onto his back, he didn't resist and his back legs fell open. Deaton listened to his heart and chest and smiled. "That's fine." 

Deaton kept a hand on Stiles belly and took off the stethoscope and pushed it in the deep pocket of his white coat. His hands moved over Stiles chest and glided against his smooth skin over his belly and abdomen. He whined and wriggled under Deaton's touch and the vet chuckled darkly when Stiles whine became more insistent as his palm brushed over his _clit_ and the bitch's body heated 

"He's responsive." Deaton murmured his hand sweeping down between Stiles hind legs where his balls should have been. He cupped Stiles empty groin. "Lovely, you can't see his scars without really looking. You'd never know he'd had balls." His voice a heavy whisper as he kneaded the flesh gently and Stiles squirmed and wriggled his hips. "He's a proper bitch." 

Scott's eyes were fixed avidly on Deaton's hand, his eyes heavy lidded. 

Deaton kneaded the flesh for a few more moments and then pulled back his hand a ghost of a smile around his mouth when Stiles whined at the loss. "Easy Stiles, I'll take care of you." 

The vet changed his attention to the flat, pink discs of Stiles nipples and he ran the pad his thumb over one. It pebbled under his touch. "There very pretty but a bit small." 

Scott startled out of his stupor. "Is that a problem?" He asked breathlessly. "Will he be able to suckle pups okay?" 

"Oh yes." Deaton answered without looking up rasping the pad of his thumb back and forth, back and forth. 

Stiles felt strange, each movement of Deaton's thumb sent bright sparks of pleasure spiraling out from where he touched him. He whined softly and his legs moved restlessly as something warm made is insides quiver and goose bumps sweep his skin. 

" They'll grow larger, he'll get proper tits, not as large as an actual female, but big enough. They'll fill with milk and even when he stops feeding, they'll stay bigger than they are now." Deaton continued. 

"But he only has two." Scott said anxiously as he watched Deaton roll the nub, flushed with blood between his thumb and forefinger gently coaxing it to lengthen from the disc of the areola. 

"That's not a problem, " Deaton answered as he concentrated on rolling Stiles tender flesh, "Omega produce a _lot_ of milk, Stiles will just make sure each pup gets a turn at the nipple. But if he has more than six, you might want to help him out with some bottle feeding, especially as it's his first time." 

Scott nodded. 

By now Stiles was emitting a constant low whine and the nub was elongated between Deaton's fingers. Deaton glanced up at his flushed face, eyes shut and suddenly closed his fingers and on Stiles flesh and pinched _hard_. 

Bright, white pain ricocheted through Stiles body and bounced off nerve endings. He gave sharp yelp that made Scott start and cast a somewhat accusing glance at Deaton. Stiles moaned lewdly as his flesh rippled with pleasured pain and surprisingly he made no move to roll over or protest when Deaton chuckled and began the same treatment on is other nipple. 

Scott watched fascinated as Deaton elongated the second nub from the areola until Stiles was whining softly his face glistening with sweat and pink. Deaton pinched hard and stiles gave a pained groan, his flesh quivered for several moments, and he wet himself a little. 

"Stiles!" Scott grabbed a cloth and whisked away the tiny puddle. "Sorry Doc." 

Deaton gave a salacious laugh, petting Stiles side. "It wasn't urine Scott, Stiles had a small orgasm." 

"Oh." His eyes widened. "OH! I didn't even know bitches _had_ orgasms." 

"Some do, some don't." Stiles panted as Deaton rolled him onto his belly, his head spinning. "Some bitches are able to come on the stud's knot, that's good, their contractions make him ejaculate harder and milk the stud dry. Stiles is very responsive to stimuli, he's in excellent heath and condition" Deaton added, "but he is a late bloomer and it's no good if he's not very fertile." 

Scott's face fell. 

Deaton patted his arm. "Don't worry I'll take a blood sample, it'll take a few minutes to test his hormone levels, see how fertile he is and when he's likely to have his first heat. Even if his levels are low, we can give him hormone treatment. Stand him up and I'll take his blood." 

Scot urged Stiles upright on the table while Deaton collected a steel kidney dish containing syringe, sample tube and a tourniquet made of inch wide, blue nylon webbing. His lab coat hiding the hard on in his pants. 

Stiles caught sight of the needle. He knew it, shots! And buried his head under Scott's arm with a whimper. 

"Come on dude," Scott cajoled," don't be a whimp." 

Stiles gave him an accusing stare. It was alright for him to say, he was an Alpha. He was an Omega and not expected to be brave. 

Deaton put the tourniquet around his arm and cinched it tight, it pinched and as far as Stiles was concerned was a new and obscure form of torture. The vet palpitated the fat vein in the inside of Stiles arm and raised the syringe. 

"Just a scratch Stiles." 

Oh yeah, he'd heard _that_ before. 

Apparently taking stuff out of the body hurt less than putting it in, but Stiles howled on principle when the needle pushed into the vein, just to make Scott and Deaton feel bad. 

Deaton released the tourniquet and Stiles blood flowed into the tube. 

The pet felt dizzy. 

Soon it was done and the needle withdrawn, Deaton held the tube of blood. "Keep this pressed to his arm for a minute while I go and check Stiles hormone levels." 

He handed Scott a ball of cotton wool and he dutifully pressed it to the inside of Stiles elbow and whispered words of encouragement into his ear. 

Deaton disappeared through a door at the rear of the surgery and five minutes later he was back, wreathed in smiles. "Excellent news, Stiles hormone levels indicate a very high level of fertility, enough to give him an A+ breeding rating." 

Scott squeezed Stiles around the neck. "What does that mean?" 

"When he does go into heat you'll only have to show him a picture of a knotted cock to get him in pup." Deaton chuckled. 

"Really?" Scott said eagerly. 

Deaton stared at him. "Well no Scott. He'll have to be bred of course, but he should get pregnant right away." 

"Oh yeah, I knew that." Scott nodded. 

"Indications are his heat will hit in about four weeks." 

"Oh." He sounded disappointed. "As long as that?" 

"Well," Deaton pushed his hands into the pockets of his lab coat, "I could give him a shot, it would bring him into heat in a couple of days." 

"No," Scott shook his head, "it's okay. I don't want to use drugs on him." 

"Actually you're being wise." Deaton nodded. "Drugs to induce or suppress heat mess up the natural biological cycle. Especially in bitches who haven't had a heat like Stiles." He reached out and ruffled Stiles hair. "I wouldn't recommend it and there are other, natural ways to stimulate a bitch to heat." He added mysteriously. "I want to try something." Deaton stepped close to the table and stroked Stiles buttocks and then knead the flesh. Stiles turned his head and looked at him questioningly. "It's okay Stiles, " he petted his rump, "I'll make this good." 

Scott looked at the vet, his tight face and hooded eyes. He wondered if he should say something, but Deaton knew what he was doing. 

"Put your arm around his head Scott, this is going to feel strange at first." Deaton wrapped his arm around Stiles narrow waist. 

Deaton ran his hand over he round globes of Stiles ass dipping down between his legs and brushing over his clit, over and over. Stiles grunted and relaxed a little, leaning into Scott. 

Deaton cupped his ass. 

_Stiles whined as sensations rippled through him. He pushed at Scott's arm. This was the strangest visit to the clinic he'd ever had._

"That's a good bitch." Deaton crooned, his thumb pressed against Stiles sensitive button. "You like that don't you?" Heat pulsed through Stiles body from the point where Deaton's finger rubbed him steadily, he whined and shifted his weight restlessly on the table. Deaton's breathing quickened, his hold around Stiles waist tightened. 

Stiles leg flexed, heat creeping like a thief through him, nerve endings sparking at the brush of Deaton's lab coat against his back, urging him on, he didn't know what was happening and pushed into Scott's hold.. Stiles panted, his hips began to sway, rocking steadily as his body tightened and began to climb, tighter and tighter his awareness of everything around him becoming dimmer. Then something inside him snapped and his body fell apart in a rush of relaxation, he mewled and would have collapsed to the table if Scott and Deaton hadn't held him up. 

Distantly Stiles was aware of Deaton's praise and his ass cheeks being parted. He was too disorientated to do more than gasp when the wet tip of Deaton's index finger pushed into his tight hole, not deep but over and over and over. The small burn of stretching muscle and the rasp of unlubed skin increased as the finger plunged deeper with every thrust until it became uncomfortable enough to draw him back to awareness. Stiles whined uncomfortably, Scott shushed him and ran his fingers through the sweat dampened strands of his hair, his breathing deep, eyes heavily lidded and fixed on where Deaton's finger plunged in and out of Stiles body. 

Stiles yelped when Deaton added second finger, struggling against the hold of both Scott and the vet, dipping his ass and trying to pull away. His body clamped down on the fingers and he tried to push them out, but they only seemed to plunge deeper. It hurt and his virgin channel and rim burned and stretched, fought the intrusion, the scrape of fingers against his tender walls, the bruised flesh. 

"God he's tight and hot." Deaton said breathlessy between heavy pants. 

_Stiles wailed._

"You're hurting him." Scott observed palming his hard cock through his pants. 

"He can take it." Deaton growled hungrily. 

Stiles whimpered as the vet pumped his fingers into him. He added a third, the size and lack of preparation made Stiles muscles burn in protest. The bitch's body struggled to accommodate the fingers battering his tender walls, making him yelp and whimper. Deaton ignored him, his gaze dark, this breath leaving him in primitive grunts with each thrust of his fingers. He plunged his fingers in and out almost viciously, he angled his them to pummel a bundle of nerves inside Stiles and he lit up like a Roman candle. 

Stiles body quaked with sudden pleasure. 

"Ahh yes," Deaton mouth twisted into a triumphant smile. "That's a good bitch Stiles." 

Awash with sensation, Stiles flesh trembled, his insides quaked and his cries became less pain and more pleasure. Everything tightened fiercely and then released in a ferocious burst of fiery pleasure. The orgasm swept over him he wailed, mindlessly pumping his hips, body shuddering. Deaton held him up as his knees weakened, pumping his fingers in and out until the last shudder faded. 


	3. Chapter 3

Deaton kept moving his fingers in and out of Stiles until the last tremor left his body and he hung limp and pliant from the hold Deaton had about his waist. The bitch's breath came in quick, ragged pants , red faced and glistening with sweat. Stiles had no idea what was gong on, it was the strangest damn visit to the clinic he had ever experienced. His body sang with pleasure and his insides ached, echoing to the rhythmic thrusting of Deaton's fingers long after he removed them with a thick, squelching sound and released his hold.

Stiles sank gratefully down onto the table, Scott still holding his head.

"Ah, excellent," Deaton patted Stiles ass affectionately, "that went very well."

Deaton's voice was throaty and shakier than he would have liked, the spreading damp patch at his crotch hidden by his lab coat. He held his slightly trembling fingers out to Scott to inspect, glistening with clear, viscous slick. Scott's face remained blank for a few moments as he tried to process's what had just happened and how he was supposed to respond. He pushed his fingers through Stiles sweat soaked hair and his face brightened.

"Stiles is in heat?" He asked eagerly.

"No," Deaton answered with a patient shake of his head, " but his slick glands just inside his rim are working fine," there was a lingering huskiness in his voice, "he's mature and ready to take cock without lube."

Scott frowned.

" Mature bitches like Stiles," Deaton continued reaching for a cloth to wipe off his hands, "can be fucked at any time and most enjoy it." His voice was firmer but edged with excitement. "But they can only accept a knot , be bred and get knocked up when they're on heat."

Scott's brows drew together in an agonized expression of concentration and his fingers stilled in Stiles hair.

Deaton lay aside the cloth. "That's worth remembering". He lay his palms flat on top of the table and leaned on them.

Scott's agonized expression deepened. "Yeah,but why?"

It was Deaton's turn to blink. "Why what?"

"Why should Stiles want to be fucked when he can't get pregnant?"

Deaton gazed at Scott in fond dismay. "Scott I don't wish to delve into your personal affairs but you and Miss Argent have been a couple for some time." He absently caressed the curve of Stiles spine with his palm, relishing the warm, satin of his skin. "I may be speaking out of turn and if I am, apologize." He paused, inhaled and stilled his hand above the curve of Stiles ass. "But I expect you and she..." He lifted his hand and made a vague gesture.

For a second Scott reflected a blank gaze and then awareness moved in the depths of his sloe eyes and a hot, red stain spread up his cheeks.

"I presume," Deaton continued , "it's an expression of what you feel for each other and an enjoyable activity rather than a desire to procreate?"

"God no!" Scott blurted. "I mean yes...it's how we feel about each other , not that we want a baby - Not yet, maybe in the future like ten or fifteen years." He drew is shoulders up.

Stiles lifted his eyes, why was Scott so flustered?

Deaton returned his hand to Stiles and pet him. "The same is true for Stiles, I'm not suggesting he's capable of the same level of attachment, bitches tend to be promiscuous choosing the strongest available male at any one time. He's very responsive and you saw how he orgasmed on my fingers, it's very likely he'll do the same on a cock and get pleasure from it even when he's not being bred." Deaton straightened and folded his arms. "There is strong evidence for letting bitches like Stiles have regular sex even outside their heat. It mellows them out, regulates their cycles and makes them more content."

Scott looked dubious. "Stiles is fine." He said defensively, "very happy."

"I'm not suggesting he's not," Deaton nodded, "You look after him very well and it's not compulsory Scott, but it's worth keeping in mind, besides it might explain why he's later with his first heat."

"Because he's never been fucked?" Scott's eyebrows lifted, this was _Stiles_.

"It's one possibility." Deaton offered dryly. "It might hurry his heat along, a natural solution."

Scott's expression grew confused. "So what, do as Isaac suggested? Take him to the dog park, pick a dog Stiles likes and let them fuck?"

Deaton pinched the bridge of his nose tiredly. "Scott promise me you'll _never_ follow Isaac's suggestions. Even if Stiles can't get pregnant there's reasons why that's a bad idea."

Scott's look turned expectant and Deaton sighed.

"You have no idea if the dog's experienced or too aggressive, not to mention what sexually transmitted diseases it might be harboring." 

"Dog's _have_ STD's?" Scott asked incredulously.

"Yes, three actually. " Deaton nodded. "Canine Brucellosis , Canine Herpesvirus and Canine Transmissible Venereal Tumors. Brucellosis is the one worry about, it's immaterial to werewolves but it can be passed to humans and as Stiles father was human and not a werewolf, it's not worth the risk."

Scott put a protective arm around Stiles neck. "No it's not." He agreed.

"And as we've established you don't want...." Deaton's voice faded at Scott's puzzled expression and he cleared his throat. "I would suggest that the dog you've chosen as Stiles prospective stud fucks him before his heat. He won't knot him of course, he's not actually breeding him, but they'll get to know one another and it'll be less strange and stressful for Stiles when the time comes. Being knotted for the first time is sometimes a bit _uncomfortable_ and if Stiles knows the dog he's more likely to take it in his stride."

"But that puts us right back where we started." Scott sighed, looking glum. "I haven't got a stud, I can't afford what a good stud would cost."

"Ah,"Deaton pushed his hands deeply into the pocket of his white lab coat and brought out a round, cheesy treat and fed it to Stiles. Stiles gratefully accepted the treat, it was the best part of coming to the clinic. "I might be able to help you there."

Scott's eyes widened expectantly.

"I have a client," Deaton began as he tidied things away, "Peter Hale. He doesn't breed dogs himself, but he has a magnificent dog very much in demand as a stud. Derek has sired about fifteen litters in the last two years, he's _very_ experienced."

"Wait," Scott frowned, " _Derek_ , he calls the dog _Derek_?"

It was Deaton's turn to look nonplussed. He didn't think anyone who called their pet _Stiles_ had room for comment. "Yes," his brows drew together, "a little unconventional perhaps but it actually suits him. His Grand Champion name is Big Bad Wolf of Hale."

Scott's mouth slackened. "He's a Grand Champion?"

"Yes of course, he's the first wolf dog to be made up into a champion, he's also an agility, weight pull, tracking and multiple event champion." Deaton grinned at Scott's stunned expression. "And he's not yet three years old. He's an exceptional animal, I've handled several of his puppies. He gets good sized litters of big boned, healthy pups. You'd have no problem selling them."

Scott seemed to startle from his stupor and raise his hand in a questioning manner. "Did you say _wolf dog_?"

"Yes."

Scott made an expansive gesture with both hands. "Is that even a _thing_? I mean is it allowed, aren't they like dangerous? Aggressive, un trainable and stuff?"

Deaton sighed. "It depends very much on the individual animal, the breed involved in the cross, individual temperament, nurture versus nature and the owner. Their not for everyone, they don't belong in apartments or cities. Peter's an Alpha so they have a pack dynamic going on, plus Derek's aloof, confident, dignified but not aggressive."

Scott shook his head slowly and lowered his eyes, petting Stiles. "I dunno." He said uncertainly.

"Temperament has never been an issue with the puppies." Deaton cajoled. "And Derek's confidence will make up for Stiles nervousness."

Scott's eyes swept up, not liking any criticism of his pet. "Stiles isn't nervous, he's shy." He said defensively.

"Of course." Deaton gave a sympathetic smile.

Scott played with a lock of Stiles hair between his fingers absently. "Is Derek big?"

"Possibly a little taller than the dog in the video you watched, slender build but very muscular shoulders and hind quarters, strong legs, big paws, short coat, large, elegant head, not coarse at all. And he's completely free of all hereditary diseases and conditions."

"You don't think he's too big for Stiles?"

"No," Deaton shook his head, "Stiles is bigger than the bitch boy in the video, he'll do fine."

Scott chewed his bottom lip between his teeth and gazed at Stiles pensively. It had all seemed so easy when he first talked about breeding Stiles and now there just seemed like one decision and obstacle after another. He wanted what was best for Stiles and to help out his mom financially, God knows she had always worked so hard and taken care of him and Stiles. 

Deaton saw the hesitation and indecision in Scott's expression. "Derek's solid jet black with the most amazing green eyes, very striking. He and Stiles will make the most amazing puppies." His voice slid gently over Scott reassuring and persuasive.

Scott's expression eased. "Yeah, okay I guess." His eyes lifted to Deaton. "That's if Mr Hale will agree."

"Excellent." Deaton rubbed his hands together. "I'm sure Peter will be all for the idea. I'll give him a call now and run it by him and we'll take it from there."

Deaton gave Stiles a final pat and turned away and strode to the door. "You can lift him off the table now Scott. You'll find some cheesy treats in the jar on the counter behind you, give him a few." He called back as he went through the door.

Scott lifted Stiles from the table and set him floor, he still felt a bit wobbly and sat on his haunches watching with interest while Scott unscrewed the top off a jar and fished out a handful of round, cheesy treats. Scott fed him and cooed nonsense to him waiting for Deaton's return.

Ten minutes later Deaton strode back into the surgery a broad grin splitting his face. "Peter's delighted and all for the idea." He bent down and ruffled Stiles hair. "He can't wait to see Stiles and introduce him to Derek." He tipped upright. "He's been thinking about letting Derek breed a bitch like Stiles and he's very excited to see what kind of pups they produce."

"I can't afford a stud fee." Scott said in a rush.

"I explained the circumstances." Deaton nodded. "I think you'll find Peter very understanding and flexible. He doesn't need the money, he's a historian and novelist by profession , showing and breeding Derek is by way of a pastime and relaxation for him."

Scott's head tipped to one side. "Historical Novelist?" He asked with interest.

"Not really, supernatural thrillers and crime. He's very successful and an eminent werewolf historian.."

"Uh." Scott grunted.

Deaton pursed his lips. "Derek's never actually bred a bitch like Stiles, all his litters have been from actual canines, mainly German Shepherds, Husky's, Malamutes, Belgian Shepherds, Great Danes, New Foundland, those types. Peter wants to expand Derek's breeding potential."

Scott scowled. "Suppose he doesn't like Stiles, or Stiles doesn't like him?"

"It's _very_ unlikely Derek won't like Stiles. It does rarely happen that some dogs won't mount a bitch like Stiles, " Deaton said sagely, "but Derek's experienced and quite frankly, " he chuckled, "quite a determined Casanova . I don't see that there'll be a problem with an appealing bitch like Stiles. As for Stiles liking Derek, we'll have to wait and see." Deaton plucked a pen and piece of paper from the deep pocket of his lab coat and lay it on the table and began to write. "This is Peter's address," his eyes swept up to Scott's face, "You do know were the road into the Preserve branches off?"

"Yeah sure," Scott tipped his head, "Stiles and I used to go there a lot a few years back."

"Good, well Peter's house is on private land just inside the Preserve and you can drive up to the house on that road."

"That big two storey wood and stone house surrounded by trees that's almost derelict?" Scott queried.

"That's the one, you'll find it's changed quite a bit." Deaton straightened held the paper out to Scott.

Scott plucked the paper from Deaton's fingers and read it.

Peter Hale, Hale House, Preserve Road, The Preserve, Beacon Hills. 209 6938363

"I've included his phone number in case you want to speak to him before hand or change your mind, " Deaton added dropping the pen back into his pocket and folding his arms, "otherwise he and Derek are looking forward to meeting you and Stiles tomorrow evening."

 

Next morning Melissa McCall leaned against the back of her chair at the kitchen table, she looked tired from her late shift at the hospital and her hands clasped a warm mug of coffee between them. She was dressed for bed, pajamas, a full-length blue towel robe and slippered feet. She watched her son sitting directly across the table as he consumed bacon and warm croissants with relish and hummed in appreciation at every bite. Scott plucked a piece of bacon from his plate and fed it to Stiles sitting on his haunches patiently by his chair, having emptied his bowl long ago. Stiles loved the taste of bacon and tugged the tasty morsel carefully from between Scott's fingers with his teeth and crunched the crispy treat .

"Your such a mooch Stiles." Melissa commented with fond amusement.

The pet grinned at her and returned his attention to Scott.

"So," Melissa took a drink of coffee, "everything go alright at the clinic last night?"

Scott swallowed and took swig of juice from his glass. "Sure," he didn't feel the need to elaborate too much, "Stiles is in top condition and the test Deaton did," he gestured vaguely with his glass, " he said he's very fertile, just a late bloomer." He set his glass down on the table.

"That's wonderful honey." Melissa smiled looking over the rim of her mug. "So you've decided to go ahead and breed him?"

Scott paused. "Yeah I think so. " He gave a casual one shouldered shrug. "Deaton said it would be good for him and he has a client who has a great dog, just right for Stiles and he thinks that they'll have an amazing family." The excitement grew in Scott's voice.

"What breed?"

Scott lifted his eyes from his plate . "Uh?"

Melissa narrowed her gaze. "The dog, what breed of dog ?" She clarified.

Scott didn't think his mother would approve of a wolf dog. "German Shepherd called Derek." He answered quickly. "He's all black and fathered loads of pups."

A smile ruffled Melissa' mouth. "The dog's called _Derek_?"

Scott blinked. "Yeah, his Champion name is _Big Bad Wolf of Hale_ "

Melissa's smile broadened. "Very dramatic." She took a sip of coffee and looked thoughtful. "Did you say _Hale?"_

Scott looked up from feeding Stiles more bacon. "Yeah, that's the name of the dude who owns him, Peter Hale."

Melissa's hands tightened around her mug. "Peter Hale the author, has that big house in the Preserve?"

Scott frowned straightening and gazed at his mother intently. "The doc said that's where he lives."

"Oh my goodness." Melissa hurriedly put her mug on the table and leaned forward on her elbows.

"Mom?" Scott's frown deepened.

"I _know_ him. He was a couple of grades ahead of me in school." A pink stain washed her cheeks and she traced her index finger aimlessly over the table. "I had quite the crush on him in 10th grade."

"Ewww." Scott wrinkled up his nose. "TMI mom."

Melissa snorted lifting her head. "Sorry to bust your bubble Scott, but I was young too once and I had eyes. Peter was a very attractive, popular boy, but I doubt he knew I existed." She sighed. "He left Beacon Hills for Columbia college in New York and he didn't come back for..."her mouth became a moue of concentration, "about ten years. I was with your dad by then and Peter had a young wife, Rosemary. "

"I'm going over there this evening to meet Peter and see if Stiles and Derek get along."

"I'm leaving for the hospital at six."

"I'll probably just miss you, I have lacrosse practice."

Melissa nodded. "Take your cell." She gazed thoughtfully over Scott's shoulder at a spot on the wall. "I have to say Peter didn't strike me as the dog breeding type."

"He doesn't, he only has Derek."

"Ah," Melissa nodded, "I expect he's lonely in that big house all by himself."

"I thought you said he had a wife?"

"He did." Melissa's eyes clouded and she shifted uneasily on her chair. "She died not long after they bought the house, it was half ruined and the plan was to rebuild it into a family home but she never lived to see it. So young too, it was tragic."

"Oh," he worried at his bottom lip with his teeth, "how?"

Melissa looked at him bleakly. "Cancer. By the time it was discovered it was widespread and she died soon after despite treatment. Peter took it very hard, became a semi recluse. That was about seven years ago."

Scott swallowed around the lump in his throat. "That's a shame."

Melissa reached over the table and patted the back of Scott's hand and stifled a yawn. "I'm going to bed." She pushed her chair back. "Have a good day at school honey and remember me to Peter when you see him."

Scott smiled. "Sure thing mom."

 

I was almost seven thirty in the evening when Scott took the back road out of town, it was still light and Stiles was on the back seat wearing his safety harness, head pushed through the open side window. Stiles nose twitched and his body quivered with excitement when he recognized the familiar twisting road, encroaching trees and thick undergrowth that identified the edge of the Preserve. It was several years since he and Scott had been there, when they were young and more adventurous.

Scott peered though the windshield and avoided the potholes, the car's suspension had seen better days and he didn't want to risk a breakdown. He and Stiles had been by the house years ago and from what he could remember it was set in a clearing, surrounded by overgrown grown weeds and encroached on and overshadowed by the thick forest. The house itself was almost derelict, he seemed to remember the family who lived there moved away and there had been some sort of fire, possibly caused by vandals. There was little left of what once must have been a large, impressive house. 

By seven forty five Scott turned off the back road and followed the side road that led up to the house. Cautiously he parked his old car opposite the entrance to the Preserve and could see the house dimly in the distance through the trees. He had to check twice that it was the right place. The house was now surrounded by a high wall surmounted by surveillance cameras, there were a pair of closed, heavy, ornate wrought iron gates mounted between concrete posts topped by a pair of wolves and straddling across the way to short, paved drive. The overgrown weeds were gone, replaced with a neatly manicured lawn and a drive swept around the lawn in a curve, past the house and looped back toward the gates, but the house was still heavily overlooked by the grim trees of the Preserve. It was the house took his breath away. It looked to have been entirely rebuilt in wood and stone, there was a double garage at the side and he could glimpse a satellite dish mounted high on one of the side walls. It seemed very large and there were many windows, all dark except one small one on the second floor that glowed softly with a yellow light. Now and again the silhouette of a man crossed behind the drawn blind, _Peter Hale_ Scott supposed. He watched a while longer chewing on his bottom lip, a habit he'd had since childhood. Well it was time to make up his mind, either he did this or he didn't. Scott glanced at Stiles looking at him with a head tilted to one side and an excited expression from the rear seat.

Scott checked in the driving mirror and ran his fingers through his dark hair. He'd changed several times trying to decide what to wear that was appropriate between casual and shirt and tie formal, he'd settled on casual, gray Chinos and a plain, white Tee-shirt. He didn't know why he felt so nervous, he was only going to talk to Peter and Deaton had assured him the Alpha was friendly and looking forward to their visit. This was for Stiles.

"This is it Stiles." It was now or never.

He started the car and drove toward the gates. Scott let down his window expecting to announce himself to some sort of intercom device but there was nothing. The gates parted with a quiet hiss in front of him and closed with a click as he drove through and his car followed the curve of the drive to the house.

Stiles and Scott's eyes lifted up to the windows as they stood at the bottom of a short flight of wide, stone steps that led up to the heavy, oak door. Scott half expected the lights to come on, on the ground floor but they didn't, only the single window remained illuminated. They made their way up the steps and Scott raised the large, brass, wolf headed knocker and rapped on the door. 

Scott thought that the wolf theme was a little heavy handed.

They both winced as the noise seemed to reverberate through the house. In a heartbeat there was a soft glow behind the blinds in the ground floor windows and there was the sound of quick foot steps coming toward the front door, but no tell-tale barking. Scott and Stiles were rooted to the spot as the door swung open.

Scott stared dumbly at the man stood framed in the doorway, he didn't know exactly what he had expected, but somehow this man wasn't it. He was aware that he'd expected a bespectacled, studious, professor, scholarly type and Peter Hale hardly matched that description. The Alpha was a couple of inches taller than he was, ruggedly handsome with dark, short hair, twinkling blue eyes, and a neatly trimmed goatee and moustache. Athletic, slender and fit he'd wedged his contoured chest into a navy Henley, unbuttoned at the neck to reveal the start of firm chest muscles and a few wisps of curly hair. The sleeves strained to contain thick biceps and were pushed up to the elbow to reveal roped forearms. His trim waist was belted and his firm thighs encased in the pale blue of washed out denim. His skin was tanned, flawless and he must have been at least forty but looked younger.  


Scott was unaware he was staring or that Peter Hale was running quietly assessing eyes over him.  


Scott gazed and was only dimly aware that the man was speaking when he saw his lips move..  


"You're staring, it's rude to stare." A voice a smooth as silk flowed over Scott, warm with amusement.  


"What?" Scott startled and he felt a rising heat in his cheeks,. "Umm, yeah I'm really sorry, are you Peter Hale?" Scott felt suddenly stupid, it was obvious from the way he held himself that he was an Alpha and belonged to the house.  


"I am," the man confirmed, his eyes taking a stroll over Stiles body, "may I assume that you are Scott McCall and this _delightful_ creature is none other than Stiles?"  


Without a by or leave the Aphla bobbed down in front of Stiles and buried the fingers of both his hands in his hair and inhaled deeply, nails scratching Stiles scalp.  


Stiles closed his eyes in bliss and pushed into stranger's touch. Scott felt a frisson of jealousy.  


Peter's eyes swept up to Scott. "He really is quite lovely." His eyes dropped and he evaluated Stiles seriously. "A little more slender than I anticipated."

"Stiles has always been slim." Scott said defensively.

Peter rose gracefully to his feet with a wary smile. "I meant no criticism, as Alan said he's absolutely exquisite." 

Mollified, Scott returned the smile.

"But I'm forgetting my manners," Peter's smile widened, "please come in," he made sweeping gesture, "don't stand on ceremony." He stepped aside as he spoke to allow Scott and Stiles to enter. "Derek will be along shortly to meet you." Scott frowned. "If you wish to remove Stiles leash, you can leave it on the hall table there."

Before he made up his mind if it was a good move to enter the house, Scott's body was moving and across the threshold responding to Peter's invitation. He removed Stiles leash and folded it and placed it on the round antique table as indicated. Peter closed the door behind them. He led Scott and Stiles along a wood paneled hall into a spacious living area with a huge, blazing log fire that sent a ruddy glow around the wood clad walls, huge, deep piled rugs covered the floor and large, comfortable, wing backed chairs in a dark tan leather were pulled up close to the hearth. An unopened can of soda and two crystal glasses, one half filled with a tawny liquid sat on a round table drawn close to the chairs. 

"I took the liberty of bringing you a soda from the fridge," Peter gestured to the table with his hand, "if you'd prefer something else, water, juice, milk, tea, coffee it's not a problem." Peter offered solicitously. "I'd offer you something stronger but I'm aware of your age, your driving and I don't want your mother after me." He snorted. 

"Nothing for me, thanks." Scott responded.

Peter's eyes lowered. "What about Stiles?"

"We're fine, thank you." Scott answered stiffly.

Peter grunted. "Very well, have a seat." He gestured to a winged chair and Scott sat, perched nervously on the edge. Peter took the chair opposite him and sprawled back, legs extended and holding his glass in one hand. "I expect you want to ask a few questions before Derek returns from his run."

Peter clicked his fingers to get Stiles attention and he went over to him, Peter's hand stroked his head lazily as he sat beside his chair.

Scott's eyebrows knit together. "You let Derek out alone?" 

"In the Preserve, yes." Peter confirmed. "He has far too much energy to stay cooped up and I can't work and give him the hours of supervised exercise he needs, so the Preserve's ideal. He always comes back." He added as an afterthought. "We tried the whole dog park experience and Derek enjoyed meeting the other dogs," Peter's eyes clouded mysteriously and he sipped his whisky, "then there was a somewhat unfortunate," he paused and set his drink on the table, " _incident_."  


Scott's eyes widened in alarm. "Did one of the dogs attack him?"

Peter's eyebrow arched . "A dog would have to be suicidal to attack Derek." He said dryly. "Besides which he gets on well with dogs."

"Oh my god did he attack one of the dogs?" Scott persisted. This was important Stiles might be in danger.

Peter's expression became indignant. "Certainly not!"  


"What then?" Scott huffed.  


Peter sat forward, his hand till caressing Stiles. "I was strolling through the park, as you do and Derek was off leash doing his thing." He shrugged nonchalantly. "There was a commotion and I went to see what it was. Derek was balls deep inside an American bulldog and fucking like a jack hammer." His eyes took on a devilish humor. "The owner was hysterical, not a good look on a six foot four, overweight leather daddy with tattoos and piercing's." He said sardonically.

Scott blinked. "Maybe he didn't want his dog to have puppies?"

Peter gave a wicked smile. "It was a dog not a bitch. Personally I think _that_ was the problem. The way the dog was grinning and thrusting his ass up for more, his owner seemed to think it cast a doubt on his dog's masculinity or perhaps his. There was certainly no need to make such a fuss." He gave a moue of disapproval.

"What did you do?" Scott asked eagerly.

"I took a photo with my phone and waited until Derek finished. He didn't knot of course and we went on our way. I thought it best to avoid the dog park after that." Peter added sagely.

Scott scowled."Is Derek gay?"

"No, just a horndog." Peter quipped. "Truthfully he'll fuck what he likes, damn slut." He picked up his glass and tipped it back, draining the contents, noting Scott's horrified expression over the rim. " Do you want to see the photo?" He asked with malicious humor.

Before Scott could say no, Peter thrust his cell under his nose. The picture showed in graphic detail a white and gray American bulldog, pushed down onto it's elbows, tongue lolling and ass thrust in the air. A huge black dog draped over it's back, it held the back of the bulldog's neck in it's jaws and forelegs wrapped around it's hips, his cock buried in the bulldog's ass. The black dog flagged his tail high in triumph and the bulldog's swollen, red, knotted cock hung from it's sheath. Before he could look away the image was burned into Scott's brain and his cock hardened aggressively. 

He was one sick puppy.

Scott's arousal spiked the air and the ghost of a smile played around Peter's mouth. He drew back and dropped his phone back onto the table. He regarded the bulge at Scott's crotch and the way he blushed and squirmed on the edge of his seat.

"Would you like to take care of that?" He gestured to Scott's crotch with his chin. "There's a downstairs bathroom along the hall, feel free." He smirked. "I'd hate you to be uncomfortable."

"What?" Scott startled, his cheeks turning a fiery red. "N..no I'm fine." He stammered and covered his crotch with his hand and willed his cock to soften. He swore it hardened further and rasped against his zip uncomfortably. "Deaton said this is the first time Derek's bred a bitch boy?" Scott's voice was husky, warped with lust.

"That's correct," Peter nodded, "but I anticipate no problems."

"He said some dogs won't mount bitch like Stiles."

Peter glanced at Scott's worried expression. "I think Derek will take one look at Stiles sweet pussy and we'll have a job to stop him fucking his pups into his belly." He chuckled darkly. Scott's body rolled with heat at Peter's coarse language and Peter took pity on him and gave a loose, off-hand gesture, "I have an acquired sense of humor."

Scott attempted to cross his legs, it hurt and he gave up. "Stiles is a..." He began hesitantly, "He's never been ..."

"Never been bred," Peter cut him off, "I know. Alan made that quite clear. Don't worry Derek knows what to do ." He gave a conspiratorial wink, sighing when Scott's worried expression deepened. "Derek's really quite patient, good with nervous, flighty bitches but he gets the job done." His lids hooded his eyes and his hand caressed along Stiles spine. "He has the loveliest pale skin." He said under his breath and then his eyes swept up to Scott's face with an excited glint. "Alan said he's half human?"

"His father was human." Scott confirmed.

"That accounts for his softer look. Such a sweet face and big eyes." Peter took Stiles face between his hands and smiled down at him. " Must say I'm surprised you haven't made use of him, as lovely as he is." He spoke in a mild, interested tone.

Scott blinked. "Excuse me."

Peter leaned his head back and gazed into Scott's face.

"He's sexually mature, Alan said he's producing slick and I you haven't fucked him, I wondered why, especially when he's so lovely." Scott's mouth dropped and he looked scandalized. "Oh please don't look at me like that," Peter huffed, "you can't expect me to believe that a healthy young Alpha like yourself has never thought about fucking his attractive Omega pet?"

Scott shook his head in dismay. "I've had him since I was a kid, we grew up together." 

Peter raised a questioning eyebrow. 

"I'm not...I wouldn't, I couldn't." Scott voice croaked. "I have a girlfriend." He said defensively.

Peter thought he protested too much and noted Scott was still hard. "It's quite normal and I'm sure if you don't tell your girlfriend, I'm sure Stiles won't." Peter smirked a little, his hands traveling over Stiles body kneading and caressing his pale flesh, soothing, warming, arousing. 

"In the days when werewolves lived a more pack oriented existence the Omega was considered the most precious member of the pack, the backbone, the glue that bound them together." Peter's voice held an underlying sensuality. "Alphas had harems of them as mates, bred them and increased the size of the pack. When they weren't in heat the Omega's function was to be fucked by any pack member who wanted them. They relieved sexual tensions between Betas and Betas and Alphas. Betas remained with the pack rather then seeking sexual partners elsewhere. Aggression between members was diffused, the pack achieved balance and cohesion and they were bound to each other through the Omegas and to the Alpha. Packs with Omega thrived, Alphas were anchored and Omega, deeply sexual creatures, relished their roles. Today Omega's submission still favors them as mates of Alphas or in the case of Omega bitch boys like Stiles, as the pets of Alphas. It's quite usual for an Alpha to fuck his pet," he gave a casual shrug, " almost cruel not to."

Scott gazed at him dumbly, his eyebrows almost comically high.

"I understand your reticence," Peter said sympathetically pressing on, " it's hard to think of Stiles sexually when you've grown up together, but you must consider what's best for him." His voice was unnaturally persuasive.

Scott blinked, suddenly the thought he'd been unwittingly cruel to Stiles stormed his mind.

"If he'd been regularly fucked, " Peter rolled Stiles onto his back and his hands trailed down his chest and over his stomach, "he'd probably have had his first heat by now and be in a much better position to be bred, used to taking cock." His eyes lifted to Scott's face, heat smoldering at their blue depths. "It would really be kindness if one of us were to fuck him open before Derek," he drew his shoulders up, "I'm willing to do it if you feel that would be best."

Scott's lips parted and he stared at Peter.

"Right," Peter gave a twisted smile, "I'll take that as a yes then." 

With one fluid movement Peter's Henley cleared his head and was tossed aside, Scott's eyes tracked it as if he was in trance and then back to Peter's muscular chest. Tanned skin, chiseled muscles and a smattering of dark, wiry hair.

Scott's eyes flickered to Stiles on his back on the rug, the ruddy glow from the flames of the fire licking over his pale skin. He was dimly aware that he should probably stop this, but unable to draw his eyes from Peter's broad shoulders and thick biceps. 

Peter slid gracefully from his chair to kneel beside Stiles on the rug. One hand rubbing soothing circles on his chest and surreptitiously holding him in place, the other trailing down his body and skimming his clit. The bitch whined and pulled up his legs. "I know," Peter cooed at him, "you want that pretty pussy fucked open."

Scott's cock twitched against his zipper and he moaned softly.

Peter's head jerked toward him at the sound. "Are you sure you don't want to be first? After all he's your bitch, I don't mind waiting."

Scott shook his head decisively, shifting toward the edge of his seat.

"I thought not." Peter turned back to Stiles the pad of one thumb rasping back and forth over Stiles pink nipple. It furled and hardened to a dagger point, Peter hummed in pleasure. "Alan was right, so sensitive." He intensified the back and forth motion, sparks of pleasure rocking Stiles body. Peter's other hand dropped lower, his index finger rubbing circles over Stiles clit.

Stiles wriggled as the sensations rocking his body intensified and his anus clenched and unclenched in synchronization with Peter's movements against his sensitive button. Peter swapped his index finger for his thumb and flicked it until Stiles panted and whined the thumb and forefinger of his other hand gently rolling, elongating the nub of his nipple. Peter's hand curled, cupped Stiles crotch. "He's fixed, so pretty." He murmured thickly to himself and then louder. "Such a good bitch."

Scott pressed the heel of his hand against his aching cock when Stiles moaned.

Peter timed it just right. He curled his fingers over Stiles perineum and pushed his thick middle finger into him, pinching his nipple hard at the same time. His finger sank to the first joint almost without Stiles noticing as he yelped through the pleasure/pain that swamped his body.

Scott almost came.

Peter pressed his finger forward into Stiles tight heat. Stiles whined at the discomfort and tried to roll over, Peter's hand on his chest stopped him. "Shushh now, it's alright sweet boy, it'll soon feel better." He coaxed huskily and pulled his finger back, dragging against Stiles plush walls. His finger glistened with slick. Satisfied, Peter plunged his finger back in to the last knuckle... Stiles yelped. Over and over Peter pulled his finger out and plunged it back, Stiles yelped, heat and excitement rolling through his body as he wriggled and tried to pull his ass away, red faced and body misted with sweat. His muscles clenched, rippled and tried to push the intruder out, but Peter's finger was relentless and seemed to sink deeper. Peter curled and thrust his finger and just when the discomfort leveled and Stiles whines became grunts interspersed with moans, he added his index finger alongside his middle. Stiles rim stretched and muscle burned. A litany of yelps escaped from Stiles as Peter pumped and scissored his fingers with ruthless determination, deeper, faster harder and then something inside Stiles sparked into life and his yelps took on a different candor and flesh trembled with every thrust "There we go." Peter growled with a lascivious smile.

Peter flipped Stiles onto his belly with frightening ease and curled his left hand around his hip, tightly enough to leave bruises on the pale skin. He didn't remove his jeans, he didn't even push them down. He unzipped and his hard cock bobbed out of the gap obscenely. He was longer than Scott but not as girthy, plusing veins running along it's rosy length and the blunt head glistening with pre-come. He curled his fingers around his taut length and pumped himself once, twice and then pulled Stiles closer and guided the head of his cock to his winking pucker and pushed in a bear half inch, hissing at the tight fit. 

Stiles whined and ass clenched.

"Stop that." Peter slapped his ass cheek, more sound than fury but enough to make the flesh jiggle and the pink stain of a hand print. He curled his hands tightly around both hips and pulled Stiles back as he plunged forward and buried his whole length in one move, the back of Stiles thighs rubbing against the soft denim of his jeans. 

Stiles back arched like a cat and he howled. Peter hissed at the sudden tightness and heat sheathing his length. "Fuck!" He gasped and one hand clamped down on the back of Stiles neck to prevent his struggles. For a moment Peter couldn't move as the thud of Stiles pulse echoed around his cock. 

"Shit he's hot and tight!"

Peter closed his eyes briefly and inhaled, ignoring Stiles tapering whimpers as the painful echoes of entry faded. Peter pulled back carefully, and Stiles felt as though his insides were being dragged out as he felt every bump of thick vein as it rasped against his tender walls. Peter pushed back in more easily as Stiles glands slicked his length. He pulled out and pushed forward again, flexing his hips and building up speed and force, pulling Stiles back onto his cock with a high pitched whine and seating himself deeply with each forward plunge.

Scott watched in horrible fascination as Stiles was ruthlessly violated. A determined look of lust on Peter's glistening face as he shook his head and sent diamond droplets of sweat flying... There was something morbidly erotic about watching a man stripped to the waist, skin glistening, muscles rippling and yet still retaining his jeans, hard cock jutting through his fly and pounding into Stiles ass. Scott's cock ached, throbbed with each of Peter's thrusts and the heel of his hand pressed and kneaded against it.

Peter thrust hard enough to make Stiles inch forward and teeth rattle, over and over again he plowed into him, his breath coming in choppy pants intermingled with rumbling growls of satisfaction from his chest. Stiles warmth enveloped him and walls rippled and clenched along his length, an intimate caress. Tighter and tighter Peter's body wound like a watch spring, hips snapping and twisting, listening as Stiles whines became grunts and moans, his hips swaying back to into his thrusts. His hand moved from Stiles hip to stomach and he could _feel_ his cock moving inside the bitch against the palm of his hand, deeply erotic.

"Take it bitch, take it all." Peter growled breathlessly, his thrusts becoming fierce and erratic as he chased down his release. Stiles body shuddered, his walls tightened viciously as he was swamped by a wave of sensation and Peter closed his eyes, arched back his head and clenched his teeth as he shattered and came with a high pitched whine and swore vehemently. He spurted deeply into Stiles, feeling the pulse of cum against his hand as it rested on Stiles stomach and his hips jerked forward with each release.

Scott vaulted out of his chair and raced for the downstairs bathroom. Peter cracked open one eye. "Second door on the left." He called after Scott as his body quaked with aftershocks.


	4. Chapter 4

He was on a one way ticket to hell, Scott thought as he crashed through the door of the downstairs bathroom and slammed it behind him, his trunks were packed, his ticket punched and he wasn't coming back. He almost tore the zip off his pants in his desperation to get them off, shove them down along with his boxers and free his painful cock. A column of throbbing, red flesh bobbed free from the restriction of his clothes and jutted out tautly from a nest of dark, wiry curls. His cock ached, the thick veins decorating it's length pulsed and twitched in time to his hammering heart and rushing blood, his balls were heavy and full pulled up close to his body.

His breathing came in excited, choppy pants, Scott braced the flat of one hand on the tiled wall above the cistern and leaned on it. With the other hand he cuffed his cock in an erotic necklace of his fingers. It felt hot, heavy, slick and the thick under vein throbbed against the palm of his hand. Scott hissed, through gritted teeth, his touch almost too much on the over sensitive flesh. A pearl of pre-come formed at the slit in the flared mushroom head. Nerves fizzed to life and sparks of pleasure ricocheted through his body and goose bumps swept his skin. Scott tightened his hand and began to strip his cock with ruthless determination.

He was close and he knew as sensation after sensation lay siege to his tentative control that he wouldn't last long, but that wasn't the name of the game. He closed his eyes and he tugged, twisted and stroked his cock to the vivid image of Peter's bare torso, wide shoulders and rippling, muscles hunched over Stiles, the Alpha's cock relentlessly pistoning in a out of Stiles ass . A litany of painful pleasure was punched out of Stiles with every thrust and Peter 's mantra of deep grunts, growls and the dark lust etched on his face were the singular most erotic things Scott had ever witnessed.

It was deeply sinful, he felt deviant in the way he relished Stiles cries and inability to do anything but take what Peter did to him. He felt he was a horrible person... And he _loved_ it.

Scott felt his muscles tighten and his insides quake as his control shattered. Pleasure crashed over him like a wave and he came, biting the inside of his cheek to stifle his cries of release . He aimed his cock into the bowl of the john and erupted, ropes of pearly cum splashed over his hand and painted stripes on the porcelain. He came and came body jerking and buttocks flexing with each fresh spurt until he was left limp and exhausted, rubbing out the last of his orgasm and then leaning both hands on the tile until his legs stopped shaking and he brought his breathing under control.

Scott was shaken and it was several moments before he softened and felt strong enough to use the toilet paper to clean himself off, tuck himself away and zip up and flush the toilet. He transferred his hold onto the edge of the sink. His hands curled around the edge of the porcelain basin in a white knuckled grip and his eyes lifted to the mirror above. Surprisingly the refection gazing back looked just the same, he wouldn't have been shocked to see a Dorian Gray transformation, God knows he deserved it. 

He'd just had the most cataclysmic orgasm of his young life. He wasn't gay, males didn't do it for him and he didn't feel anything sexual toward Stiles. He had a girlfriend, he loved Allison...He really did and although he'd be the first to admit Peter Hale was an attractive man, he wasn't _attracted to_ him. Twice now he'd been painfully aroused by the sight of a boy bitch taking cock up his ass, once from the dog in the video and now by Peter Hale fucking Stiles and he was appalled at himself. What would Allison think and what kind of owner allowed their pet to be violated by a comparative stranger,even an Alpha who made a convincing case for it being normal and for Stiles own good? He had allowed himself to be manipulated and he was a terrible owner who had not only done nothing to stop Stiles assault, but who got off on it! He resolved to wash his hands, _rescue_ Stiles and leave as quickly as possible.

Scott washed his hands and splashed his face and then used a towel from the rail to dry himself off, adjusted his pants, straightened his Tee-shirt, rose to his full height and pulled his shoulders back. He gave one last sideways glance at himself in the mirror, opened the bathroom door and padded back along the hallway to the spacious living room.

Scott 's gut twisted more and more with each step he took and what confronted him as he stepped into the room was not what he expected. Peter had zipped up, put his Henley back on and replenished his glass. He lounged in the chair by the fire and Stiles lay at his feet looking relaxed and happy, the flames from the fire caressing his pale skin and eyes drooping drowsily. Peter's free hand combed fingers languidly through Stiles hair and the other held the crystal tumbler of rich, mellow, tawny liquid. It was as if nothing had happened. Stiles was neither anxious, nervous nor distressed, in fact he looked content with a ruddy glow to his cheeks. Scott took in the scene and felt a twist of jealousy .

"I think Stiles and I should..." Scott began

"Ah, there you are," a grin split Peter's face as he scented the air and Scott's release, "better now?" He smirked and didn't wait for a reply. " Do come and in join us," he gestured to Scott's former seat, "I took the liberty of opening your can of soda and putting it in to a glass for you." 

Without thinking, Scott was drawn further into the room and settled into the chair. Peter glanced at his watch.

"I expect Derek back from his run in about ten minutes and we'll introduce Stiles."

Peter's blue eyes tracked Scott's movements with interest as he picked up his glass from the table and carried it to his lips. 

"I'm not sure that's a good idea." Scott mumbled before he took a gulp of soda looking at Peter over the rim of his glass.

It was if the older man hadn't heard him, his eyes watching the bob of Scott's Adam's Apple. "Y'know there's no need to feel guilty about becoming aroused watching fucking." Peter said blandly.

Scott spluttered into his glass, his train of thought completely derailed and crashing headlong down the embankment and a red stain moving up his cheeks and heat creeping through his body like a thief. His scalp pickled as he pulled the glass away from his mouth.

"I Don't."

"Get roused or feel guilty?" Peter's voice held a healthy dose of skepticism and his eyebrows arched comically high. Amused eyes held Scott's and a ghost of a smile played around his mouth. "Clearly you _do_ get aroused, I can smell your cum, guilt and embarrassment."

Scott's _rabbit in headlights_ expression was compounded by the opening and closing of his mouth wordlessly as he stared at the other Alpha.

"Voyeurism is hardly worth calling a _kink_ , to one extent or another it's practiced by most of the male population and a healthy percentage of females. Getting people to admit it on the other hand, is another matter." Peter spoke in an oddly gentle tone. "Normally it's an activity indulged in privately behind closed doors. Hence the popularity of the porn industry. Don't tell me a healthy seventeen year old Alpha has never watched porn?"

Scott ducked his head.

"Thank god," Peter chuckled darkly, "I thought I might be dealing with a saint. Not an angel though because they're horny little sluts."

Scott's lips twitched. He ought to have known better than to try to fool an Alpha.

"Personally ," Peter continued, " I confess to being both something of a voyeur and an exhibitionist, under the right circumstances." He added quickly in a mild tone as if he was discussing the weather.

Scott lifted his eyes. "Yes but it's _Stiles_. I don't feel _that_ way about him, he's my friend, my pet. I'm responsible for him, I'm supposed to take care of him."

Peter nodded. "Alpha have been fucking and caring for Omega since our kind first walked the earth. It's hard wired into our psyche and it makes no difference Stiles is a bitch boy or half human. He's a credit to you, I can see he's very well cared for."

Despite himself Scott preened under Peter's Praise.

" I would highly recommend you fuck him." Peter smile turned wicked. "He's very responsive, very tight and hot. Excellent muscle control, like a velvet vise around your cock , trembling and panting under you and when he comes his muscles contract and release in waves along your length. He'll be amazing impaled on a knot and milking it dry." His smile deepened as Scott's arousal spiked the air. "I envy Derek," Peter voice rasped, "and if you do decide to fuck him during his heat, remember to wear a condom. He can birth a baby as well as pups and that would be just...awkward."

Scott drew a shuddering breath. "Not gonna happen," he stated with a decisive shake of his head.

Peter pouted. "It's your decision of course, but it seems such a waste."

"He's my friend."

"What's that term you young people use..." Peter made a show of thinking. _"Friends with benefits_?"

"I..I couldn't do that to him." Scott stammered.

"You make it sound like a _bad_ thing. " Peter's expression stilled and grew serious. "I can assure you it's not. I didn't hurt Stiles, he may have been less than eager and in some discomfort but that was because it was his first time, he needed to get used the feeling of being stretched, full, a cock buried inside him, thrusting and coming. He soon warmed to it. Does he look like he's afraid of me, in discomfort or distressed?" Peter persisted and gestured with his glass toward Stiles asleep at his feet, the tawny liquid sloshed inside and at that moment Stiles gave a loud snore.

Scott's amused snort was entirely involuntary. "No of course not." He assured Peter. "He looks very content, but I love Allison..."

Peter rolled his eyes. "I'm not suggesting a life-long commitment, just a quick fuck. Pleasurable to both parties."

"I wouldn't do that to Allison. " Scott said firmly. "If she ever found out she'd be devastated."

Peter's brows arched questioningly. "Are _you_ going to tell her? Do you image Stiles will?"

Scott huffed, he desperately needed to change the subject, his cock had started twitching in interest and he was running out of plausible excuses. His eyes skated over the room. "You have a beautiful house." He said, taking another gulp of soda.

Peter took the sudden change in direction in his stride. "Thank you. It's on the large size, but I like plenty of space, not having neighbors for several miles and of course the Preserve. " He took a sip from his glass. And continued. "I bought the house several years ago. I was born and raised in Beacon Hills and always admired this place. I attended college in New York where I met Rosemary, my wife and lived there for a number of years before returning home with Rosemary, our intention was to raise a family." He got a remote look in his eyes. "This place was derelict, a ruin, but we loved it and we got it very cheaply. We employed an architect and contractors and this house rose like a phoenix from the ruins." Peter turned toward the fire and dropped his voice. "Rosemary and I wanted a large family, but in the event she got ill and died, she never even saw the house completed."

Stiles who'd woken up sensed the sad, tense atmosphere and nuzzled Peter's lax hand with a whine.

Scott swallowed hard. "I'm sorry."

Peter gave an off-hand shake of his head. "It was a long time ago."

"I'm still sorry." Scott persisted.

Peter gazed at Scott enigmatically and then nodded. "Your mother should be proud of you."

Scott ducked his head. "Actually you might recall my mom."

"Really?" Peter's blue eyes lit with interest.

"She was a couple of grades behind you in school. Melissa Kingsley as she was then, she remembers you."

Peter dropped his head and pursed his lips in thought for several long moments and then lifted his gaze to Scott. "Slender, pretty girl with dark shoulder length hair, brown eyes and a heart shaped face." The description of Scott's mom rolled glibly off his tongue.

"Yeah." Scott smiled delightedly.

Seeing Scott's delight , Peter's expression became apologetic. "Actually I'm cheating, I don't remember your mother from school so much as from the hospital." Scott's smile faded. "Nurse McCall was among those who cared for my wife at the end." He tipped his head back and drained his glass and set it on the table. "Your mother was very efficient, very kind." Peter inhaled deeply and exhaled slowly. "Rosemary liked her and she was both supportive and sympathetic to me afterward. She's well?"

Scott nodded. 

"Please give her my warmest regards."

"I will."

"And your father, " Peter tipped his head slightly, "I believe she married someone in law enforcement?"

Scott's uneven jaw tensed and expression darkened. "FBI, they divorced when I was nine."

"Ah," Peter nodded, " modern life puts such strain on marriages."

The muscle ticked angrily in Scott's cheek. "He was an abusive drunk." He replied in a harsh, raw voice. "I haven't seen him in a long time and I don't want to."

Peter studied Scott's face intently for a moment. "Some men shouldn't get married or have children." He said quietly.

Scott didn't reply, he just took a gulp of his drink. Peter continued to talk to fill the awkward void.

"After her death the house was completed. " His eyes slid around the room. "I intended to sell the place and return to New York, but I couldn't bring myself to do it. It was as though this house was my last link to her and there was nothing in New York to go back to, so I stayed and buried myself in my writing."

"You must have been lonely?"

"I don't believe so." Peter answered thoughtfully. "I've never been what you'd call a _conventional_ Alpha. I was an only pup and fell back on my own company from an early age. I don't require the close proximity of others of my kind or humans in order to feel content. With the exception of Rosemary of course. Anyway I was quite happy with my life and about two and a half years ago I found Derek."

Scott's eyes widened. "You _found_ him?"

Peter lent forward a little in his chair and resumed fondling Stiles hair. "Yes, didn't Alan explain?"

Scott answered with a shake of his head. "I thought you bought him as a pup."

"Definitely not. I'm not actually dog person. Like most Alpha I find they're pathetically afraid of me in response to my wolf. I was extremely surprised when Alan told me you worked at the clinic, don't you come across the same problem?"

"No, that is it used to be and still is, sometimes. " Scott gestured with his hand. "But I've learned to suppress my wolf ."

Peter nodded in understanding. "Your youth probably helps... If I ever thought about getting a pet," his eyes dropped, "it was a bitch boy like Stiles." His smile became salacious. "I confess if I'd see one as pretty as him I'd have given in to temptation, but I didn't and along came Derek." Peter's blue eyes swept up to Scott's face as he continued with his story. "I was in the Preserve at dusk and came across a cardboard box containing two pups about six weeks old. One was Derek, the other a little girl, was already beyond help. He was a scrap of a thing, underweight, undersized, all paws and head. "

Scott's brows knit together. "Someone had abandoned them?"

"Left them to die. Barbaric." Peter murmured under his breath. "There was no way I could bring myself to leave them so I brought them home. I buried the little girl and I intended to take the other to the nearest animal shelter. I loaded the box in the car and I set off with that intention but it occurred to me long the way he probably wouldn't survive in a shelter without veterinary help first." Peter's lips thinned. "The first vet I reached was an imbecile and in my opinion shouldn't be allowed to treat a goldfish. He advocated the pup's immediate destruction for no other reason than he obviously had wolf blood." Peter fixed Scott with a steely glint in his eyes. "As you can imagine that did not sit well with me. I gave him the rough edge of my tongue and left with the pup. The second vet I reached was Alan Deaton and he couldn't have been more different.

Alan swung into action to get the pup on his feet. He was dehydrated and desperately in need of fluids and nourishment. It was touch and go for a while but he made it and by then he was _Derek_." Peter gave a wry smile. "Never name anything you don't intend to keep and I was his - I hesitate to say owner and definitely not _master_... _guardian_ perhaps. Alan gave me supplements to feed him and I arranged subsequent visits to have him wormed, chipped, shots and so on. In a week he doubled in size and in month he was unrecognizable. Alan warned me that from the size of his paws he was going to be a very large animal, it was an understatement."

"Did you ever find out who dumped him?" Scott asked quietly.

"No, I confess I didn't try to find out," Peter admitted. "Alan ran Derek's DNA and confirmed he was 50% Canis lupus occidentalis in specific terms a Mackenzie Valley wolf, some of the biggest wolves in the world and 50% Canis lupus familiaris specifically Alaskan Malamute."

"Those big gray huskies?"

"Technically, although it's like comparing a racehorse to shire horse. Malamutes are the shire horses of the sled dogs, taller, heavier and capable of hauling immense weights over long distances, but not as nimble as other husky types. Someone went to a lot of trouble to get a specific breeding and the intention was probably to produce dogs suitable for fighting that would rival pit bulls and American bulldogs. It's likely he and his sister were considered unpromising candidates, not worth rearing and disposed of. I sensed he had wolf blood of course and no doubt that's what prompted me to feel sympathy for his plight. As for keeping him," he made a open handed gesture, "who better? I have enough room, he has the Preserve to run in and his wolfish instincts , what there are of them are no problem for me... We simply get along. " He shrugged. "He's not aggressive, doesn't attempt to muscle in on my territory, respects my property and I do the same to him. " Peter gave a dismissive shrug. 

"When he was about nine months old Alan suggested I might consider having Derek castrated. It seemed hugely unfair and somewhat selfish to deprive him of his balls. He was well behaved, bit aloof with strangers, but he didn't hump my leg, the furniture or visitors, so I saw no point. That being the case, Alan suggested he was such an exceptional animal I have him registered and enter him for shows and stand him at stud. I have to confess I did it in the beginning as a joke, but Derek has a competitive streak and he won. I entered him in another show to prove it wasn't a fluke and he won that, and kept on winning." Pride edged Peter's voice. "He was a Grand Champion twice over by the time he was fourteen months and I received offers reaching into five figures for him. I refused of course," he snorted, "Derek is like family and one does not sell family. On the other hand I was quite happy to be his pimp," he gave a Satanic grin, "and watching him fuck his pups into a bitch's belly is deeply erotic and satisfies the voyeur in me and the rake in him. A win, win situation." Peter rubbed his hands together with obvious excited anticipation. "I can't wait to see him with Stiles, his pale skin and Derek's black fur, his almost delicate, slender build and Derek's raw, muscled strength, Stiles innocence and Derek's experience." He gave Scott a conspiratorial wink.

Scott's eyes dropped to Stiles lying on the rug, his expression betrayed he _knew_ he was a topic of conversation, but thankfully not the specifics of what was being discussed. "Um about the stud fee.." Scott began tentatively.

"Don't mention it." Peter gave a dismissive wave of his hand. "I don't expect one, it's the first time Derek's bred a bitch like Stiles and I'm anxious to see the puppies."

Scott chewed his bottom lip. "Do you want choice of a pup from the litter?"

"Not on this occasion. Don't get me wrong. "Peter added hastily. "I'm expecting the litter to be nothing short of spectacular. Having seen Stiles I'm hoping that, that being the case, you'll be open to allowing Derek to breed Stiles on subsequent heats and we can come to some mutually beneficial arrangement?" His eyes looked hopeful.

"Sure," Scott nodded, "if everything works out that sounds great."

 

Peter led the way through the elegant wood paneled hallway toward the rear of the house pointing out rooms that lay on the right and left. Scott followed behind, Stiles at his side.

"I have a room purposely set aside at the rear of the house." Peter called over his shoulder. "It's by way of a..." He paused a moment half turning toward Scott. "A _breeding_ room I suppose you'd call it." He turned back and resumed walking. "The owners of the bitches like to see the mating is successful and no harm comes to them. I have to confess I have no problem watching and supervising, though once Derek has mounted his bitch," a wide grin split Peter's face, "he doesn't let go until she's fucked full of his pups."

Peter continued along the hall and drew to a halt a door at the end. His hand rested on the door handle and he turned to Scott.

" If you wish you can change your mind and leave anytime with Stiles, but I hope that you won't. I hope I haven't pressured you and if after meeting Derek you don't think the match will work," he raised his shoulders slightly, "whatever you decide, it's fine. But I want you to know I think it's an ideal match."

"Okay," Scott nodded the truth being he'd come this far and his body hummed with anticipation

Peter turned the handle and pushed the door open and stepped to one side allowing them to enter ahead of him. Scott was so eager to see the room he stepped straight in...

The room was larger than Scott had anticipated and nicer than the one in the video. There were no windows and the lighting came on as soon as the door opened. A subtle, yet bright ambient glow from hidden lighting in the cornice of the room. The floor was covered in some sort of rubberized matting, dark green and squashy underfoot giving good traction. The walls were painted a neutral pastel and the ceiling a plain white, reflecting the light downward. It had a clean yet earthy smell with the faint hint of sex in the air, apparent to a werewolf nose. In one corner there was a large, square, wooden framed dog bed on stubby thick legs about the size of a single bed and topped with a mattress and colorful blanket. Beside the bed was a large, shiny, metal dog's water bowl and an assortment of toys suitable for a large breed dog. Including a solid rubber red bone shaped toy as thick as Scott's forearm and cleanly bitten in half, each half bearing deep teeth marks. A colorful rope tug with knotted ends and a large, solid rubber, sunshine yellow ball with a smiley face.

"Derek sleeps in here?" Scott queried.

"Gracious no, he sleeps..." Peter paused. "Well he sleeps anywhere he likes really. Occasionally he graces me with his presence at the foot of my bed, but his favorite place is a small cupboard under the stairs. It has a piece of rope on the door and he can open and shut it. He's made a cozy nest and I think it reminds him of a den."

"Probably." Scott nodded uncertainly.

The walls were covered with framed certificates, rosettes and shelves groaning under the weight of silverware. Cups, trophies, shields and yet more with crystal ware, rose bowls, enormous vases and crystal and silver figurines of dogs. Scott's eyes widened as they bounced from object to object and he drank the room in. Beside him Stiles looked up and followed Scott's gaze, not comprehending exactly what he was looking at but picking up on his owner's awe. Peter preened as he took in Scott's expression.

"Do all these belong to Derek?" Scott asked with respect coloring his voice.

"Yes indeed. " Peter confirmed. "As well as his show ring successes there's flyball, frisbee, tracking, agility." Peter pursed his lips. "Though I have to say I saw it unfair they objected to Derek completing the course on his own, I absolutely refused to run the damn thing with him."

Scott spluttered at the indignant look on Peter's face. 

"Of course he excels in the weight pull. "Peter continued. He's broke a sled weighing in excess of two thousand pounds out of ice and hauled it away for almost a quarter of a mile." There was a fierce pride reflected in Peter's eyes as Scott's mouth dropped. "Indoors he pulled a sled on rails weighing six and a half thousand pounds from a standing start, along a pre determined route. His nearest rival was a American bulldog bred and trained entirely for the sport.* I credit the Malamute in him."

Scott _squeaked_.

"I keep these in here," Peter nodded to the walls, "to impress the bitches owners," his eyes danced with merriment as he observed Scott's stunned expression."It works." He said dryly.

Scott's dark eyes strolled around the rest of the room. There was a side door almost obscured in one wall and two black leather, deeply padded executive type, high backed chairs with arms and set on a stand with three feet that could swivel around to allow the occupant to view any aspect of the room with ease. Scott's eyes settled on a breeding stand near the right wall and bolted to the floor. His jaw tensed but his cock twitched at the thought of Stiles restrained inside. It was all shiny, bright steel and black , thickly upholstered short bench with a broad leather strap and many points of adjustment. Wide, black leather cuffs were attached to the front and rear legs for wrists and ankles. It looked new and unused.

Peter followed Scott's gaze. "I bought that and installed it today." Scott's eyes flickered to him. "I don't use breeding stands myself, some of the bitch owners insist on them and bring them themselves, but they're _much_ simpler affairs. It makes no difference to Derek and they feel it ensures a good breeding and prevents any accidents."

Scott blinked. "Accidents?"

"Nervous, flighty or virgin bitches might struggle against the stud, especially when he," Peter made a fist and punching motion with his hand, "pushes in his knot."

Scott's hand dropped protectively to Stiles head. "Derek won't _injure_ Stiles?"

"Not on purpose no." Peter shook his head. "He never has and he's had a lot of nervous and virgin bitches, but he's a powerful, virile animal, unusually patient but if Stiles struggles he's liable to get a bit bruised simply through Derek's strength . Alan recommended the stand, he seemed to think it a wise precaution at least initially and it'll help Stiles take Derek's weight."

"How much does he weigh?"

"Around two twenty."

"Pounds?" Scott eeped. "That's nearly eighty pounds more than Stiles!"

Peter flicked his hand dismissively. "It's fine, he takes a lot of his weight on his back legs."

Scott's eyes flicked between Peter and Stiles skeptically, as he had visions of Stiles being squashed flat.

A deep, rough bark from somewhere outside drew Peter's attention and made Scott jump.

"That's Derek," Peter grinned, "I'll let him in."

Without waiting for a reply Peter pivoted on his heels and took several strides to the side door in the wall and disappeared through. Scott's hand dropped to Stiles hair and he mumbled words of reassurance, whether to settle his own nerves or Stiles he wasn't sure.

There was the noise of a door opening, mumbled, indistinct words and then the sound of the steady tip tap of claws on wood as Derek presumably, padded the short distance from the outside door along the wooden floor of the hallway to the breeding room.

Scott stood with his eyes transfixed on the side door and his fingers curled into Stiles hair as heavy breathing and tip tapping grew nearer. Scott didn't know what to expect, a big German Shepherd or husky type dog certainly, but what maerialized framed in the doorway suspended his breathing and made him take a quick step back.

The solid, jet back dog seemed to expand to fill the gap and looked as though he'd just walked out of hell, Lucifer's pet and just as beautiful as the fallen angel. There wasn't a hair on Derek's body that wasn't jet black. He stood three feet at the shoulder, his body slender, athletic with taut, thick muscle rippling around his shoulders, loin, croup and thigh. His fur was thick, dense but short except for a slight feathering on his thighs and a longer ruff around his neck giving him a slightly leonine appearance. His head was large but in proportion with his body, a broad space between stiffly upright triangular ears, smaller than a German Shepherd's and furred on the inside. His muzzle was pointed with powerful jaws, but shorter rather than long and coal black nose. His legs were long, as thick as Scott's forearms and huge dinner plate paws and sharp, black claws. He was easily six feet in length without his thick, two foot tail. 

Scott thought idly that on his hind legs, Derek was taller than him and weighed about sixty pounds more. And his stomach fluttered at the thought of Stiles taking what must be Derek's huge cock.

Derek held Scott's gaze with the most mesmerizing, almond shaped, translucent green eyes, flecked with golden brown.

"Shit," Scott whispered, "forget wolf dog, that's a fucking wolf."

Derek's ear flicked.

Stiles looked between Scott and at the very large and frightening dog that stood on the threshold to the room, perhaps they should leave -now!

Whatever he was, Derek was the most magnificent canine Scott had ever seen. He dwarfed Riot in size and he ran out of adjectives to describe him - magnificent, imposing, regal, huge, fantastic, unholy, terrifying, beautiful, they tripped through his mind.

"Damn it Derek, I asked you to wait!" Peter's voice huffed out as he appeared in the doorway behind Derek. "Oh, he ginned broadly as he took in Scott's stunned expression, "time for introductions. Scott," he gestured, "this is Derek, Derek this is our new friend Scott and the lovely Stiles."

Derek took a single step toward them.

Stiles had decided that the most prudent course of action was to side step neatly behind Scott's legs and at mention of his name he peered cautiously round. The dogs eyes had dropped and he- _Derek_ , was looking at him, his ears strained forward and he was _sniffing_ his black, moist nose twitching. Stiles ducked back.

"Don' t stand there Scott, come and meet Derek." Peter urged. "He might look like he walks at Satan's right hand, but in reality he's a sweetheart." His hand caressed Derek's broad skull. "Aren't you boy?"

Scott could have sworn Derek rolled his eyes and gave Peter a dirty look. The coal black wolf dog sat on his haunches and waited, looking at Scott expectantly while the young man hesitated.

"He won' bite!" Peter scoffed.

Stiles had heard it all before, Derek looked like a serial killer, a dog park thug with a _bad dog_ vibe going for him which wasn't entirely unattractive but best avoided.

Scott's eyes slid between Peter and Derek. Derek might _look_ dangerous but in fact he had to admit he had been perfectly behaved, not pushy or aggressive at all. Scott took a step forward.

Stiles loved Scott, he really did. He was a good, kind , owner. Okay sometimes he was a bit thoughtless, especially when he got near Allison, but on the whole he was the best. However Stiles would be the first to admit that Scott was not the sharpest tool in the shed, he was still streets ahead of Isaac but sometimes he needed saving from himself and that was _his_ job. Going toward a dog who would quite possibly _eat_ you was a case in point. Stiles did the only thing he could do, he grabbed the bottom of Scott's pants in his teeth and tugged.

"Hey," Scott ruffled his hair, "quit it Stiles. It'll be okay." Scott wrenched his pants from between Stiles teeth. "Derek's friendly."

Oh yeah, that's what they all said. Then there were teeth, snarling, screams, blood...Stiles shuddered, he hated the sight of blood, especially his own. He watched in helpless horror as Scott approached Derek, Derek watched as Stiles gave him his best _death glare_ the one he reserved for squirrels and Mrs Armstrong's miniature apricot poodle, Fitzroy. Stiles and Fitzroy had a long-standing feud over rights to a certain fire hydrant. He dared Derek to touch Scott, the big dog's mouth opened and long, pink tongue lolled out. He was laughing at him, how rude, just like Fitzroy. it was going to be an awful , tragic disaster - He could see the headline _Brave Pet Mauled To Death Saving Owner From Hell Hound_. At least he would have thought that if he could have read, in the event Stiles screwed his eyes tight and waited for the snarling and screaming to start.

Seconds ticked by and the void was filled with Derek's heavy pants.

"Oh my God, he's awesome."

At the sound of Scott's voice Stiles cracked open one eye and squinted in Derek's direction. To his horror Scott was bobbed down in front of Derek with his hand stretched out toward his nose. Derek sniffed his fingers and then swiped his palm with his rough tongue, Stiles second eye snapped open. Scott grinned and buried his hands into the thick, black fur at either side of Derek's neck.

"Who's a lovely boy?" Scott cooed.

Stiles was appalled as a spiral of jealousy rose within him, that was the voice Scott reserved for _him_. Derek peered over Scott's shoulder and _smirked_ at him, Stiles glared back and Derek gave a doggie grin.

"There, " Peter grinned, "I thought you'd like him," he cast a look toward Stiles, "perhaps you ought to encourage Stiles to be friends."

Scott looked over his shoulder. "C'mon Stiles make friends, Derek's great."

Clearly Scott had taken leave of his senses, he had no intention of going near those teeth, no matter how attractive the owner! Stiles pushed his bottom firmly against the cushioned floor and schooled his face to his most stubborn expression.

Scott pushed to his feet and sighed. "C'mon dude, Derek won't hurt you."

Derek peered around Scott and gave Stiles a tongue lolling grin. Peter looked between them. "Perhaps if we take a seat and leave them to make friends." He gestured toward the chairs.

Scott nodded uncertainly. "Okay."

Scott and Peter moved over to the chairs arranged side by side and sat down. 

Peter reached across and patted the back of Scott's hand. "It'll be fine."

Stiles eyes tracked his owner. What was he doing? Shouldn't they be leaving?

Derek sat for a moment, his green eyes warming as he drank in the scent and sight of the hairless bitch - _Stiles._ He'd seen bitches like Stiles before, but he'd never been this close to one, never had one presented to him for breeding. She wasn't in heat, if she had of been it's likely he would have already have had her under him, moaning and yelping as he filled her with his knot and fucked his pups into her belly, that's what he did with furred bitches. She was pretty even without fur, her body soft lines and curves, pale, dark flecked skin, big brown eyes and her head a mess of dark hair, a round ass and no tail. She smelt delicious, even at this distance and his cock stirred and heat coiled in the pit of his stomach. 

Derek waited to see if Stiles would move and when he didn't he stood, shook himself and sidled toward him slowly. Ordinarily Derek would have _strutted_ tail and head high, body tense, displaying his virility, dominance and strength, but instinct told him to take things slowly. For every step Derek inched closer, Stiles backed away head turned and body lowered in instinctive submission.

Peter gave a sensuous smile. "Whether Stiles knows it or not he's behaving as bitch should for their stud, showing respect."

Stiles backed across the room until he bumped the wall and he sat square, pushing his ass to the floor with his back pressed against the wall. His eyes widened as Derek slowly advanced on him, the deeply masculine fragrance of the dog filling his nose and knocking him giddy, making his stomach flutter. Derek towered over the smaller Bitch Boy.

Scott watched with avid attention as Stiles stilled and Derek sniffed, inhaling deeply at his face, at his mouth until it opened and Derek's tongue licked inside, roof and cheeks, then he sniffed at Stiles ear, pushed his nose deep and snorted. Stiles grimaced and shook his head vigorously. Derek worked his way over Stiles neck, chest and nudged his shoulder with his own. Stiles took a chance and nuzzled at Derek's cheek and was rewarded with a deep rumble from Derek's chest and he rubbed his black head over Stiles shoulder and flank, distributing his scent. Stiles relished the feel of Derek's thick fur ghosting over his skin.

Derek approached Stiles rear, dropping his head and nosing under his belly between his legs and groaning at the musky scent of his clit. Derek brushed it with his nose and Stiles jumped and pushed his back against the wall when Derek's rough tongue laved at it, Stiles sweet taste erupted on his tongue until he moaned.

Oh yeah he was going to fuck the bitch until she couldn't stand.

Derek pulled back and his nose trailed wetly over Stiles thigh and round buttock. Stiles whined and pressed his ass to the floor.

Derek backed off a pace, sat down and tilted his head to one side, gazing questioningly at Stiles. Stiles dropped his eyes. They stayed like that for a few moments, a tense stand off with Stiles processing a strange feeling of _want_ but what for he wasn't sure and Derek fighting a spiraling lust for the bitch, an instinct that told him to get her up and on his cock. Finally Derek pushed up on to his hind legs,stretched out his front and flexed his toes against the green rubber, then he stretched out each back leg in turn, looked at Stiles and...yawned as if supremely bored. He glanced toward Peter and Scott, seemed to shrug, turned and padded over to his bed. Stiles blinked after him.

"Oh," Scott's face dropped. "Derek doesn't like Stiles."

Peter's look turned positively carnal. "Oh my dear boy, of course he does, he's just not being a douche about it. Look." 

Peter gestured with his chin to Derek laid on his bed, the dog's thick, veined cock had pushed several inches from it's furred scabbard and he was licking himself lazily. "He wants to fuck Stiles into the floor."

Scott flushed and his cock began to swell.

Stiles looked between Scott and Derek who was seemingly ignoring him and that just wouldn't do. Stiles wasn't sure what it was he wanted but instinct told him Derek was the one to give it to him. He stood and tentatively walked toward Derek. 

On his bed Derek raised his head and watched Stiles creep forward, standing and meeting him halfway. They stood side by side, nose to tail. Derek carried his tail high and to Scott's surprise allowed Stiles to scent him. His head and neck and then his chubby sheath.

Stiles sniffed, his legs weakening at the scent of virile male musk, earth, grass and something just _wild_ and dangerous. He sniffed Derek's furred balls, round, plump and drawn close to his body indicating potency. Derek nosed at Stiles rear, scenting his crack and growled casting a narrow eyed glance toward Peter, who held up his hands in a gesture of surrender.

"What? I was _helping_." Peter muttered. "Stiles is all yours Derek."

Derek huffed and pushed his nose firmly between Stiles ass cheeks. Stiles gave an indignant yip and his rear dropped, but he didn't sit. Derek nipped his fleshy buttock and Stiles yelped, Scott started to his feet and Peter's hand on his arm stilled him.

"Derek's not hurting him, just establishing dominance, look."

Stiles had pushed his rear up, dropped his head and widened his legs. 

Scott dropped back into his seat.

Derek's nose was buried in his crack and he began to lick, his hot breath ghosting over the flesh of Stiles buttocks, long, rasping strokes with his rough tongue up his crack and over his pink entrance, still swollen from Peter. Half a dozen long, languid licks and they became shorter, faster, centered on the entrance to Stiles body. Round and over Derek licked, pushing at the pliant flesh, nibbling at the rim. And then Derek's agile tongue pushed inside, the pliant muscle rasping and prodding roughly. Stiles yelped and jumped away from Derek, he followed as Stiles swung his rear away from him and they frolicked in the center of the room until Derek tired of the game.

"They seem to be getting along well." Scott commented and Peter grunted in agreement.

Derek made his move shouldering Stiles off balance, Stiles gave a surprised yelp and Derek straddled him as he tried to push back up onto all fours and nipped the back of his neck, demanding submission. 

Derek allowed Stiles to rise and placed a paw on his back, Stiles panicked and scooted way. Derek was patient but Stiles was testing his limits and he gave a rumbling, warning growl which seemed to vibrate off the walls of the room. Furred bitches would hve given in by now but Stiles didn't seem to know what to do, Derek didn't want to hurt her just clean out all traces of Peter's spunk and fill Stiles with his own.

Peter sighed. "I think it's time to put Stiles into the breeding stand, he's too nervous to stand for Derek on his own."

 

It took both Scott and Peter to get Stiles into the stand and adjust it to a comfortable, secure fit. It had many more points of adjustment than the one Scott had seen in the video. The front and back raised and lowered independently, the padded, leather bench could be expanded or shortened, the head restraint heightened or lowered, the whole frame lengthened or shortened and the rear legs widened. Stiles insisted on sniffing at it and struggled a bit when his head and wrists were restrained. Scott sat by his head and cooed to him, ruffling his hair while Peter carried on adjusting the bench and fitting the wide leather strap snugly around Sties body and bucking it over his back. Lastly he widened the back legs of the frame and secured Stiles ankles one each side.

Derek padded around them in an anxious circle, whining softly. He'd seen bitches placed in stands before, he knew what it meant and despite any finer feelings he might have for Stiles, his cock poked out of his sheath, hot, red and pulsing.

When they'd finished Scott stood up and he and Peter stepped back and admired their work. Stiles had given up struggling and stood quietly ready to be fucked, his back legs were spread wide and his pink hole visible and vulnerable. He was helpless for whatever Derek wanted to do to him. He looked beautiful in his paparic slavery.

Scott's cock hardened wickedly and exhilaration rolled through his body.

Peter and Scott resumed their seats and Derek dived in. He went to Stiles head and licked into his mouth reassuring him with sloppy licks of his rough tongue and head rubs all along his body to his rear. He rammed his nose roughly into Stiles pink hole and then pushed in his long tongue. Stiles jumped and the stand rattled as he let loose a litany of pained whines. Derek paid no heed and his sandpaper tongue rasped against Stiles delicate walls, pushing and searching eating out every bit of Peter's spunk ready to replace it with his own. Stiles whines quieted to grunts, his insides ached as Derek ate him out and body heated.

There was no sound in the room but Derek's slurps, Stiles grunts and the heavy breathing of the two men watching.

It took more than five minutes until Derek sniffed Stiles hole and was satisfied he cleaned out Peter's spunk. He took one step back, Stiles stilled and the whole room paused as Derek reared up and draped himself over Stiles, locking his waist in bone and muscle corset of his forelegs. Derek shuffled forward until his furred thighs brushed Stiles skin. The bench creaked, the frame rattled as Derek got himself into position. Stiles was weighed down, surrounded by Derek's hot, furred body and he yelped at the first painful prod of Derek's cock, as broad as Scott's own but a pointed spear of flesh. The prod was hard enough to dimple the flesh and leave a small bruise.

"Canids don't get an erection before penetration. They have penile bone which makes the cock hard enough for penetration." Peter said conversationally, his voice a little thick. "After penetration the cock engorges with blood and increases in girth and length. The knot you know about. I should imagine being prodded in the ass is quite uncomfortable."

Derek began to rut, not frantic thrusts but controlled pushes searching for his goal. Scott sensed the moment Derek's cock notched into Stiles hole, his whines stopped and he became deathly still. 

Unconsciously Scott griped the arms of his chair with white knuckles.

Derek's thigh muscles bunched, his forelegs tightened around Stiles waist and he flexed his hips, driving forward, pushing through Stiles resistance and seating himself fully. Stiles _howled_ , his back arched, Peter's penetration had been slow, Derek's was like a battering ram of solid flesh and bone. He tensed and his muscles clamped down on the intrusion as he tried to push Derek out. 

Derek seemed to still for a second and then shifted his position slightly, pushed deeper and started to fuck. Stiles pain filed whines fell on deaf ears as Derek pulled back and surged forward building a steady, even pace. His thrusts were not as frenetic as Riot's had been, but deeper, slower, the swing, sway and twist of his hips dragging his thickening cock against Stiles plush walls, tight, hot, the most sensual of embraces. It stretched his rim and bruised his walls.

Stiles felt every bump and throb of Derek's length as his cock ground in and out, in and out at a relentless pace. Derek's heavy pants filled the room and grunts as he thrust and inched Stiles up the padded bench and then hauled him back onto his cock.

Stiles body lit up rolled with heat and sensation, the heft of Derek's cock echoing through his body and changing the tenor of his whines to cries of wonder.

"They look good together." Peter commented huskily.

Scott couldn't draw his eyes from the erotic scene, his cock tenting his pants and throbbing in time to Derek's thrusts. He could catch a glimpse of Derek's thickening cock, much wider now than his own, than it had been, glistening with slick each time Derek pulled back and tugged at Stiles rim obscenely.

Stiles whimpers grew more shrill again as Derek's cock swelled and became uncomfortable, even without his knot. Derek hunched over him almost obscuring Stiles with his bulk, his tongue lolled out, his head hung over his shoulder his eyes glassy with lust. Stiles made a myriad of cries as Derek begun to rut faster, harder his choppy pants in his ear. Stiles body quaked with every thrust, he felt giddy as relentless sensation lay siege to his body. 

Scott watched as Stiles face flushed, perspiration misted his skin and sweat sodden hair stuck to his forehead. His mouth slackened and eyes became remote. His hand dropped to his crotch and he pressed the heel against his cock.

Inside Derek heat coiled, thigh muscles bunched and he pounded into the shivering body of the pretty bitch below him. When her heat hit he would fuck her belly full of his pups, let her ride his cock and stuff her full of his come, but for now, this would do. His hips snapped back and forth, his body ignited as he chased down his release with ferocious determination. Stiles yelped as Derek thrusts lost rhythm becoming wild and violent, pounding a spot inside him that made the blood cascade through his veins and body sing. Derek felt Stiles muscles flutter along his length and he gave one deep push and stilled coming long and hard with a deep groan, his cock painting Stiles insides with his seed and flushing out what remained of Peter's. Stiles could feel every hot, heavy spurt like another thrust. For several minutes Derek came, his body rippling and then his grip slackened and he slumped onto Stiles back and licked his neck.

"That looked good."

Peter's voice startled Scott out of his observation of the fucking pair. Derek appeared content to remain slumped over a stupefied Stiles. "Has he finished?" Scott asked palming his groin.

"For now. " Peter chuckled. "He's being a dick. He's very virile so when he doesn't knot he sometimes stays where he is until he can go again." His eyes dropped to Scott's crotch. "You're welcome to take care of that, don't let me stop you."

"I-" Scott flushed and looked helplessly at his sated pet. He failed to notice the bulge in Peter's pants, he wasn't the only one who had found the fucking arousing.. His attention was drawn when Stiles let out a low, pained whine and Derek began to thrust lazily..


	5. Chapter 5

By the time Scott and Peter released Stiles from the breeding stand Derek had fucked him three more times. Each time the huge wolf dog pumped his seed into Stiles the stand shook, the leather squeaked, the metal rattled rhythmically and Peter casually remarked that it was just as well he bolted it to the floor... Stiles groaned, his body quaked and sang with pleasure. Each time he came Derek would collapse draping over Stiles back , his head hanging over his shoulder, mouth open, tongue lolling and heaving heavy pants. Derek didn't use his knot but his cock remained buried in Stiles until he was ready to go again. The last time Stiles was exhausted and his cries of pleasure were muted with erotic pain from over sensitive flesh, sore muscle and coming one too many times. Beneath the stand was a widening, dark, damp patch where his orgasm had literally been fucked out of him and a small amount of ejaculate had spurted from his button _clit_.

Stiles was being held up by the bench, his chest pressed to the leather, his head resting in the restraint and legs too weak and trembling to hold him up. Derek draped over his back, front legs locked around his waist head hanging over his shoulder and ragged pants gusting beside his ear, flanks heaving, a blissed out look in his eyes.

"Don't be a douche Derek," Peter remarked huskily as he adjusted his pants, "Stiles has had enough for one night."

Scott imagined Derek directed a sour look Peter's way, seemed to think about it, licked an affectionate swipe of his tongue up Stiles sweaty face, loosened his grip and slid from his back. Stiles heaved in a big breath as the soft, warm fur glided over his skin and the weight left his back. Derek sniffed his hole, nose twitching and satisfied he'd fucked out all of Peter's spunk, he walked a few steps before flopping down and concentrating on licking Stiles delicious juices from his cock.

As Scott and Peter worked at loosening the strap and cuffs, Scott took in Stiles appearance, he was _wrecked_. There were thin red weals , tracks of lust along his sides where Derek's scrabbling claws had caught his flesh, small bruises blossoming under the pale skin where the big dog had nibbled and his whole body was misted with sweat. Stiles hair was sodden and plastered to his forehead, his eyes glassy, heavily hooded and black. He looked at Scott with a stupid, sated , happy expression, his tongue hanging from the corner of his mouth. Scott had never seen the look before on Stiles, but recognized it from the video, 

Once lifted from the stand Stiles sank gracefully to the floor his legs too weak to hold him up, he _starfished_ arms and legs splayed, making Scott give an amused snort. He whined but made no further protest as Peter examined his hole and Derek's come oozed from the red and swollen rosette of pummeled flesh. Peter's index finger slid around Stiles rim and he put the tips of two fingers inside and parted the flesh so he could see inside. Derek watched the process with his intense stare fixed on Peter and gave a low growl.

"What?" Peter huffed, "I'm just making sure _you_ haven't damaged Stiles in your enthusiasm."

Derek's growl deepened, he knew what he was doing and wouldn't hurt Stiles, not permanently.

Peter ignored Derek. "Stiles is fine." He spoke to Scott. "Derek really fucked him open and he's sore and bit swollen, but he'll be good as new tomorrow and raring to go." He gave a wide grin and petted Stiles hair. "I dare say his muscles ache, he's a bit disorientated and exhausted. Take him home, give him a warm bath, use a handful of Epsom Salts in the water if you have them and bring him back tomorrow evening."

Derek had crawled up to Stiles and was washing his face with doggie _kisses._

Scott smiled at the sight of Stiles scrunched face as Derek licked, but he made no attempt to pull away. "Tomorrow?" He frowned.

"Sure." Peter straightened. "Derek's staked his claim on his pussy, we want to keep that going and he's going to fuck Stiles straight into his heat and breed him through it."

Scott nodded. "Okay, cool. " It wasn't as if he had anything better to do with Allison being away. "I'll bring him by after school and lacrosse practice. About seven okay?"

"That's fine," Peter rubbed his hands together, "Derek and I will look forward to it."

 

Peter and Derek stood framed in the doorway and watched Scott carry Stiles out to is car and load him up. Derek gave an anxious whine and Peter looked down.

"You like Stiles don't you?" Peter asked with interest.

Derek's tail swished slowly from side to side and he watched Scott slide behind the wheel of the car.

"Well," Peter folded his arms over his chest, "I can't say I can find fault with your taste, he is lovely." He took a step back from the door as Scott pulled away with a wave, but Derek seemed reluctant to move. "They'll be back tomorrow," Peter added not unkindly, " let's go and prepare those rabbits you caught." Derek sighed and followed Peter inside, with one last look after the car.

 

It took Stiles more than over half way home before he recovered from Derek's fucking enough to push his head through the open side window of the car and enjoy the wind in his face and breeze ruffling his hair. When they got home, Scott followed Peter's advice and gave Stiles a warm bath. Scott rooted in the cupboards and found an open packet of Epsom Salts and added a generous handful to the water, after he'd shampooed Stiles hair. He was glad his mom was at work, he'd have a hard time explaining why he needed them and that Derek had fucked Stiles despite his not being in heat, he doubted his mom would understand and he'd _never_ mention that Peter had fucked him as well, or that he found the whole thing unbearably erotic.

Scott ran the warm washrag over Stiles silky skin noting that the weals had faded to almost nothing and the bruises were yellowing and fading beneath the creamy exterior. Peter was right and come the morning Stiles skin would be an unblemished canvas. 

Stiles skin twitched and lean muscles slid beneath the surface as Scott lathered up the washrag, otherwise the pet was still. Scott brought the rag to Stiles back with long, sweeping strokes applying the creamy lather to the soft contours unhurriedly, careful to only touch with the cloth and not apply too much pressure. Despite his care his fingertips brushed against the pale satin flesh and tingled at the contact. Stiles skin seemed almost ethereal through the mist of steam and Scott imagined what it would be like to run his hands over the sweeping curves of Stiles body, press bruises of lust into that pale canvas, unsheathe his claws and rake them down his back weaving a spider's web of bloody threads and fuck him as Peter had done, as Derek had done. Scott felt the prick of jealousy like needles piercing his soul. As soon as he thought it he was sickened by the conception of doing such a thing. How was it possible he found such terrible attraction, arousal and salacious enjoyment in watching Stiles get fucked, wanted to fuck him himself and betray Allison in the most awful, basic of ways?

Scott finished washing Stiles with attempted detached, clinical efficiency . Swiping the washrag over Stiles swollen and red pucker made the pet whine, a noise which went straight to Scott's cock and made it twitch. Tight with frustration, Scott huffed and finished up as swiftly as possible, rinsing and then drying Stiles with a soft towel. Scott left Stiles to make his way to his bed and showered himself, wanking with a tight hold, quick strokes and tugs to erotic images of Stiles, Derek and Peter fucking behind his eyelids.

Stiles slept with the heavy thrust of Derek's cock still echoing through his body.

 

The next day at lunchtime, the dining hall was full and filled with the steady buzz and chatter, raucous laughter and yells of the students as they jostled and crowded around tables and talked with their mouths full. Scott and Isaac found small table tucked way in the corner and claimed it for themselves, glaring at any student with the temerity to approach. Isaac listened avidly as Scott picked at his burger and fries, swigged soda straight from the can and spoke in hushed tones. Scott's dark eyes skated nervously around the room and bounced over the faces of the other students to gauge if they overheard him. Isaac's eyes went round and his burger paused mid way to his mouth.

"Peter Hale fucked Stiles!" He said with a mixture of awe and outrage, his curls wobbling violently. "And you _let_ him?"

"Shushhh," Scott placed his index finger over his lips and scowled, "say it a bit louder, I don't think Harris heard you in the Chemistry Lab." Scott hissed, his eyes slid about the hall about nervously. "I didn't _let_ him do anything." He picked listlessly at a fry. "It just sort of happened."

Isaac rolled his eyes and looked around to see if they were overheard, around them students continued to eat and chatter and not take a blind bit of notice of them. "Chill dude, nobody's listening."

Scott huffed and tossed a fry into his mouth.

"Anyway it's no big deal," Isaac shrugged nonchalantly and took a bite out of his burger , "it's kinda what Alphas do." He gave Scott a sideward glance. "Most Alphas," he corrected, " 'cept you." He took another, bigger bite out of his burger.

Scott's scowl deepened. "What does that mean?"

Isaac set his burger down. "Alphas fuck Omegas, it's a fact of life, most Alphas that keep Omega bitch boys as pets - fuck them. " He said it as if it was an accepted practice and Scott was slow for not knowing about it.

Scott's eyebrows drew together over his dark eyes as if wrestling with a particularly difficult concept. "I grew up with Stiles, he's like the brother I never had." Isaac's eyes widened, Scott might be in need of help. "I mean," Scott added hurriedly seeing Isaac's concerned expression, "I know he's a bitch boy and everything and my pet but he's like... A member of the family." He finished in a rush. "I _couldn't_ do that, I don't feel like that about him."

"Are you sure?" Isaac's eyebrows lifted. "You got off on seeing him fucked."

The moue of thought soured Scott's face and he shifted uneasily on his seat. "That's different, like watching porn only more intense."

"If Allison wasn't in the picture, would you?"

Scott shook his head. "No, I don't think so." The truth was he wasn't sure. "I've known him too long, we're too close."

Isaac took a swig of his soda. "I would have thought that was a good reason for the first time to be you rather than Peter Hale, but I get it." Isaac took another bite of burger. "I'm just surprised you let him."

"He said it was for Stiles own good, that bitch boys do better with being fucked regularly, makes them happier, more content."

A smirk appeared on Isaac's face. "I can relate. He's right y'know I've heard that before," Isaac eyed Scott's plate, "you gonna eat the rest of those fries?"

"What?" Scott frowned and he blinked, once, twice before he caught up with the sudden derailment in the conversation. "No, here, he slid his plate across to Isaac, "take them."

Isaac's face lit up and he unloaded the fries from Scott's plate onto his. "Thanks dude." He tossed a handful of fries into his mouth and began to chew. " Omegas like to be fucked, it's sorta their raison d'être."

"Huh?" 

"Reason for being. " Isaac explained patiently. "I mean we all want to fuck, breed and pass on our genes, it's survival. But it's like what Omega's live for, to be fucked and bred. Be sort of cruel not to."

Scott exhaled a long breath. "That's what Peter said."

"I mean," Isaac eyed Scott slyly, "I get you would rather it wasn't you," Isaac gestured to Scott and then tossed more fries into his mouth and chewed as he spoke, his voice muffled. "I mean not when he's in heat of course," he grimaced, "because you want pups, but like the rest of the time."

Scott's brows furrowed deeply. "What?"

"Well fucking is fucking and if you didn't want to, I'd y'know , _volunteer_ even though I'm not an Alpha."

"Volunteer for what?" Scott asked, bewilderment coloring his voice as he lifted his can, put his head back and chugged his soda.

"To fuck Stiles." Isaac replied with a roll of his eyes.

Scott lunged forward snorting soda from his nose, coughing and spluttering with tears in his eyes. "What!?" He punched Isaac on the upper arm. "Stiles is your friend and my pet, you are not going to fuck him!" He spluttered loudly with a belligerent expression.

"Ow!" Isaac gave an exaggerated yelp and rubbed his arm dramatically. "That hurt!"

"Good!" Scott's chin jutted out. "Serves you right!"

"Hey," Isaac pouted, "I was being helpful." Is eyes slid over the hall and the nearest tables watching what they hoped was a drama unfold. He gave a watery smile. "Boyfriend trouble." He mumbled and several heads nodded sympathetically and returned to eating.

"What?" Scott twisted around in his seat scanning the hall and turned back to Isaac with a shrug.

"You might want to keep it down Scott, we're attracting attention." Isaac wheezed under his breath.

Scott leaned into Isaac's space. "And whose fault is that?" He hissed. "I _cannot_ believe you want to fuck Stiles."

"See that's the problem." Isaac leaned forward his elbows on the table. "You can't imagine it so you think no-one else can. Come on Dude, he's not my pseudo family member or pet and he's easy on the eye and has a hot, cute bubble butt. Yeah," Isaac leaned back, "I'd take a crack at him." He smirked.

"You've known him nearly as long as me." Scott protested indignantly.

I Isaac rocked back on his chair. " So? I like him and at least he knows and likes me. Friends with benefits kinda." Isaac coaxed with a wicked smile. "He could do worse."

Scott's face darkened and eyes hardened to obsidian. "No." Was his unequivocal answer.

"Awww," Isaac gave an exaggerated pout, "That's harsh, not to mention possibly cruel."

"To you?" Scott asked incredulously.

"To both of us. What objection can you possibly have?"

"Don't even." Scott hissed.

"So what," Isaac crossed his arms loosely, you're going to let Peter Hale fuck him just because he's an Alpha?"

"That's not the reason and you know it. " Scott had never been elitist. "Derek will breed Stiles." 

Isaac rocked forward his eyes narrowing on Scott. "Who the fuck is Derek?"

"Peter's wolf dog, Stiles stud." 

"Peter Hale's dog is called _Derek_?" Isaac asked suspiciously.

Scott nodded. "Yeah it suits him. He fucked Stiles for the first time last night."

Isaac looked askance. "Any more of the Hale family fuck Stiles?" He asked snidely.

"I took Stiles there to meet Derek, see if they liked each other." Scott relayed patiently. Deaton recommended Derek."

"So why wasn't _I_ informed? As the prospective God father I should have been informed." Isaac complained indignantly.

"I couldn't find you yesterday during school."

Isaac's look clearly relayed his skepticism. "So let me get this straight. Peter Hale and his dog fucked Stiles and _I_ didn't."

"Isaac!" Scott gave a frustrated huff. "It wasn't like that. Peter fucked Stiles slowly so it would be less traumatic when Derek did it."

Isaac's mouth fell open. "Don't tell me you _really_ believed that."

Scott squirmed uncomfortably on his seat. "You haven't seen Derek."

 

Isaac forgot about Peter Hale, he almost forgot to breathe as Scott told him about Derek, the magnificent dog's size and weight, what he looked like, his strength and virility. How he dwarfed Stiles and almost covered him completely in the breeding stand. How Derek grasped Stiles waist in his powerful forelegs, how the muscles in his shoulders rippled and thighs bunched as he thrust and punched his way into Stiles with his big cock, forcing out pained whines that turned to a song of pleasure as he fucked and fucked the helpless pet. Isaac was astounded that the dog would fuck when Stiles wasn't in heat and Scott explained that it seemed to make no odds except he didn't knot him. Isaac adjusted his crotch to accommodate his hard on when Scott told Isaac that Derek had fucked Stiles three times without pulling completely out and Stiles was _wrecked_ his hole puffy and sore by the time they released him.

Isaac was quiet for a moment when Scott finished. "Shit!" He blinked and adjusted himself. "So what? This Derek is like one of those Dire Wolves from Game of Thrones or something?"

"Bigger." Scott nodded sagely.

"Oh my god, you're joking..."

"No, three feet high at the shoulder, six feet long, two hundred and twenty plus pounds of lean, solid muscle, jet black fur and the most compelling green eyes."

"Good for Stiles. " Isaac's face split into a wide grin. "I guess they liked each other."

Scott snorted. "You could say that."

"And you are taking him back there tonight?"

"Yeah, Peter says being fucked will bring Stiles into heat sooner and then Derek will just keep on breeding him through it."

"Well that settles it." Isaac folded his arms stubbornly. "I'm coming too."

 

It took all Scott's persuasive powers, threats of actual bodily harm and dire warning that he couldn't guarantee that Derek wouldn't eat Isaac or at least bury him in the Preserve, before he was dissuaded from accompanying him and Stiles. Scott was under strict instructions to take a video on his phone of Derek and Stiles fucking or failing a video at least stills of the action. It was for _educational_ purposes only, but Isaac would look at opportunities to submit it to a porn site or perhaps they could start one of their own. Contributions gratefully accepted to their college fund. Scott was less appalled by the idea than he should have been.

It was almost seven thirty by the time Scott drove toward the gates of Peter's house and he wasn't surprised at all when they parted before him and closed with a click behind them. He followed the sweeping driveway and rolled to a stop at the bottom of the wide flight of steps up to the front door. The house was just the same as the previous night except lights were on in the ground floor and there was no silhouette moving in the windows. 

Stiles had enjoyed the ride over, hanging his head out of the rear side window relishing the wind in his face and fingers of breeze strolling through his hair. He was secured by his pet seatbelt, otherwise he was so eager to go with Scott that the young Alpha didn't bother attaching his leash, just crammed it into the pocket of his jeans. They were late, not because Scott had angst over what to wear, or because he had to feed Stiles, his mom had fed him before she left for work and left Scott pizza to heat up, the delay had been caused by a note his mom had left on the kitchen table.

_Scott,  
I've fed Stiles and there's pizza for you in the fridge, I don't suppose you will but there's salad to have with it. Green foodstuffs aren't poisonous, honest._

_Stiles has been fussy all day, wanting attention, really clingy and whiney. Honey, I think he really misses you , or maybe Derek! I know you're going to Peter Hale's tonight, take your cell and don't outstay your welcome._

_I have a double shift so I'll see you in the morning. Take care and drive safely._

_Love Mom xxxx_

Stiles was an attention slut, but he wasn't normally _clingy_ or _whiney_ , Scott read the note and chewed on his bottom lip. Stiles looked okay, made a fuss of him when he came home and made big, pleading eyes until he got a piece of pizza. He didn't look ill, anything but and at the mention of _Derek_ Stiles grew animated shifting his weight from hand to hand and whining, all the same Scott looked him over and contemplated calling Deaton or dropping by the clinic. In the end he phoned and Deaton assured him if Stiles was bright and lively, which he was, hadn't been sick, had no diarrhea and wasn't obviously running a fever or in pain then he was most likely okay, especially as his shots were up to date. But Scott was to keep and eye on him and bring him by tomorrow if he was worried. It was unlikely he'd picked up something from Derek but it might be worth mentioning to Peter.

Scott and Stiles climbed the steps and Scott was about to knock when the door was pulled open and Peter beamed at them.

"Come in, come in." Peter urged with Bacchian good humor and a sweeping gesture. "Derek and I have been looking forward to your arrival."

Scott hesitated his fingers curled into Stiles pink collar holding him back. "Its probably nothing." The smile disappeared from Peter's face as he scented Scott's anxiety. "But mom left me a note to say Stiles has been really fussy, whiney and clingy all day and it's not like him. He likes to be the center of attention..."

Peter gave a wicked smile. " Hungry too I'll bet."

"Well yeah, mom fed him earlier and then he mooched pizza from me. "

"He's started his heat. Derek will be delighted." Peter pronounced.

"How do you know?" Scott asked with a frown. He was an Alpha too wouldn't he know if an Omega was in heat?

"Come in." Peter ushered them into the hall and closed the door. " I can scent it."

Scott frowned. "I can't scent anything about Stiles." He inhaled. "He just smells a bit sweeter."

"That's it, it's much more powerful for me because I'm older, it's familiar and I know what it means."

Scott's frown deepened, was there something wrong with him? "All the same..."

"It's nature's way of protecting Alpha who may be too young to bear the responsibility of caring for a pregnant Omega and raising a family. It encourages Omega to choose older Alpha in a better position to care for them and a young family." He paused at Scott's worried expression. " What are you... Seventeen,"he sighed, "that's too young to take on such a responsibility so the Omega's heat scent is muted for you. As you get older," Peter gave a one shouldered shrug, " you'll be able to scent it over along distance."

Scott nodded.

"Look." Peter patted Stiles butt and pulled apart his pale, fleshy cheeks. Stiles whined as Peter showed how slick his pucker was. "It's early days. In two days he'll be running with slick."

Scott peered with red stainng his cheeks. "Will Derek breed him tonight?"

"Yes." Peter nodded. Scott's stomach tightened and cock grew heavy."Stiles can catch too, but he's a maiden and even for experienced bitches I recommend they be bred several times, throughout the entire heat if possible to ensure the best result. It's kinder too." He added petting Stiles hair.

"Is Derek here?" Scott asked.

"He was, but your a bit late so he went for a run to let off steam."

"Oh." Scott nodded.

"He'll have smelt Stiles and probably be back by now and anxious to see him. Shall we head to the breeding room? We can converse later." He gestured for Scott to follow him along the narrow, wood paneled hallway.

Scott released Stiles collar and he took the lead.

"Eager." Peter chuckled.

 

The breeding room was just the same as the night previously except the light was on and there was no sign of Derek, but there was the sound of frantic scrabbling at a distant door and eager whines.

"There he is," Peter chuckled, "and by the sound of it he knows Stiles is in heat. Why don't you take a seat Scott," he gestured to the chairs, "make yourself comfortable and I'll go and let Derek in."

Scott dropped down into the nearest chair and made himself comfortable. Stiles stood staring at the doorway through which Peter had disappeared. They heard a door open and Peter's muted voice.

"Hold on Derek there's no need to rush."

Clearly Derek took no notice, the quick click of nails on wood heralded his arrival as he padded swiftly toward the breeding room. The door closed and Peter's tread followed just as swiftly.

Scott held his breath and Stiles took a single step toward the doorway as Derek appeared followed by Peter. Derek's black nose twitched from side to side and his eyes heated.

Scott watched as Derek sidled up to Stiles moving with a measured tread so as not to startle him. He held himself tall, his body on display and his tail high. Stiles didn't move at first, nervous but eager he watched Derek closely from under his lashes with heavy lidded eyes and a squirming belly. He allowed Derek to get closer, inhaling his masculine musk and the scent of wild places, woods and earth, rocks and trees, wild and free. Derek got closer. He managed to get near enough to nudge at Stiles neck before Stiles spun away and backed toward the wall. Derek approached doggedly, his head turned to one side, crouched a little to appear smaller, less intimidating. Derek got close enough to nuzzle Stiles cheek, the blood surging through his veins. 

Scott was astounded when Stiles didn't immediately jump away.

"Looks good, " Peter commented quietly, "I doubt we'll need the breeding stand."

"But Deaton said.." Scott started to protest.

"It's far better if Derek can handle it, if not of course we'll use the stand." Peter promised.

 

Derek approached Stiles rear sniffing delicately, the stench of his heat making his head spin, Stiles pressed back into the wall. Derek didn't back off, his wet nose sliding over Stiles buttock, whining softly, encouraging Stiles to move. Derek backed off a step and cocked his head to one side, Stiles refused to meet the blaze of the stud's eyes, but cautiously lifted his rump. Slowly, Derek crept forward, past Stiles and sniffed his crack. Stiles scent was like a punch to his stomach and he grunted, his muscles hardened.

Scott watched as Derek scented Stiles, he's expected it all to happen much quicker like in the video. Derek nosed Stiles rear then up his side to his neck, licking his ear and mouth. Only then did Derek allow Stiles to scent his neck and chubby sheath.

“He’s patient,” Scott murmured. 

The scent of Derek's virility made Stiles mouth drool and intoxicated his mind, it filled him with a lust ridden _need_ that overrode his fear and he swung his rear away from the wall.

Peter chuckled. “He’s learned to be. Derek is very good at getting what he wants, and he wants to fuck Stiles belly full of his pups.” 

As if on cue, Derek’s cock pushed out of it's furry scabbard, thicker than the previous night, a red, pointed spear of flesh. Stiles felt exhilaration crest and flow through his body, yearning excitement , anticipation and fear in equal measure. Derek pushed his nose up Stiles crack and licked at the pungent, sweet slick sliding from his body. He licked hungrily at Stiles rim, pressing harder and harder until his tongue pushed inside and licked at Stiles lush, velvet walls.

Stiles gave a sharp yip as Derek's tongue pushed inside, it felt foreign, uncomfortable but oddly exciting, his body tingled and fingers flexed against the cushioned floor. Derek licked savoring the rich taste of his bitch, unlike anything he had tasted before, swiping inside and in little circles against the rim. Eventually, Derek's body coiled tighter and tighter the taste intoxicating his mind and blinding him to everything but the throbbing need between his legs and the feral instinct to breed his bitch and pass on his genes.

At last Derek made a move not mounting , but tackling Stiles down and pinning him under him with his greater bulk. Panicked Stiles gave a surprised yelp, fear and excitement lashing through his body, struggling under Derek as he waited patiently for the nervous bitch to calm down.. He nipped at the back of Stiles neck, demanding and getting immediate submission. Stiles stilled and dropped his head, angling it to the side, bearing his throat as instinct demanded.

"There we go." Peter smiled, " Derek's asserted his dominance."

Stiles got his feet and hands under him and pushed up onto all fours, but Derek shifted the grip of his forelegs from around his waist further up banding his ribs in a tight corset and pushed him down onto his chest with his greater weight. Stiles ass was left angled high, legs splayed widely, his puckered opening open, exposed and winking in a mixture of want and fear. 

Derek began to rut, languid strokes pushing his cock from it's sheath and then the spear of flesh prodding along his crack with deadly purpose. Each prod eliciting a whine, a mixture of fear and disappointment. Branding him with pre-come until Derek found his mark and the head notched into Stiles hole.

Stiles stopped breathing as he felt the hot flesh rest against his vulnerable opening. All of a sudden a wave of fear crashed over him and rippled through his body, his rim tightened and he struggled to close his legs. Derek responded with a rumbling, warning growl that reverberated through Stiles to the bone.

Derek's muscles hardened, Stiles let loose a low, anguished whine and started to struggle against Derek’s grip. Derek pulled back a little, the end of his cock glistening with slick, his muscles rippled in his flanks, stomach hardened against Stiles back, his haunches bunched and he plunged forward burying himself inside Stiles and not bottoming until his hips were flush with Stiles ass. The bitch _howled_.

The noise startled Scott and brought him to his feet. 

"Wait!" Peter's hand landed on Scott's arm and he subsided into his chair unable to pull his eyes from the erotic scene.

Derek's cock wider, harder, deeper than before drove Stiles cheek against the cushioned floor as it impaled him and propelled him forward. Stiles let out a chorus of pained yelps as Derek pummeled his body with a shaft of hard, relentless flesh. He ignored Stiles noises tightening his grip to a rib creaking hold. Face pressed down against the mat Stiles could only take it as Derek settled to a blistering pace of quick, hard thrusts, Stiles body echoing to every nuance, twist, sway and roll of Derek's cock. Derek fucked quick and hard the angle letting him bury his cock deep in the writhing bitch below him. His blood cascaded south, his cock growing thick and heavy, his knot at its base expanding, hardening, punching against Stiles rim.

"They look good together." Peter said huskily.

Scott had to agree Derek's coal black fur and massive body against Stiles pale skin with its smattering of dark moles and smaller body with softer curves. "They should have gorgeous pups."

“Good boy Derek, fuck Stiles full of your pups." Peter encouraged in a raspy voice.

It was doubtful Derek heard, mind addled with lust, but he seemed to fuck harder. 

Derek adjusted the position of his grip again so that he could pull Stiles back onto the forward thrusts of his cock. Stiles face was flushed, glistening with sweat, his mouth slackly open dribbling saliva, his eyes black and glassy, heavy lidded, his breathing labored, heavy, rasping pants, letting loose a myriad of cries, sensations bombarding his body, pain and pleasure melding. Derek's balls swung against Stiles ass, his cock punching pleasure out of Stiles clit dripping on to the floor below. 

Stiles eyes flew open when Derek first pushed his knot inside him. It hurt and dragged against his tender insides and stretched his rim. Stiles began to struggle anew letting loose low, pained whines growing to a crescendo even as Derek took his nape in his jaws in a warning grip that stilled him. Derek wrenched Stiles back onto his cock, forcing his knot past Stiles battered rim with a triumphal growl and Stiles sharp yelp. They knotted fully and Derek ground deep, Stiles fingers scrabbled uselessly against the cushioned floor. Derek pushed Stiles belly onto the floor and spurted into him, each hot spurt made Stiles whine like another deep thrust, his belly fucked full of Derek's pups...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is as far as I'm going with this story. It's deliberately open ended to allow for a sequel where Stiles has his pups.


End file.
